Line of Blood
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: Takes place somewhere between 2 and Trinity. While hunting, Blade comes across the last person he expected to find alive. Summary: fail. Please read anyway and let me know. M/M Chapter 5 FINALLY UP: We meet several interesting people, and things heat up.
1. The Likes of You Again

This takes place after Blade 2, kind of. Like two years after Blade 2. In a world where Blade Trinity hasn't happened yet. So yeah.

First chapter is a tiny, tiny baby teaser of a chapter. Sorry.

Obviously I do not own Blade or any of the movies. Sorry, Guillermo del Toro! I love your character too much!

Blade shot off the roof of the building like a bolt of midnight lightning, his coat flaring behind him as he hit the pavement running. The vampires that were loitering in front of the night club "Blood Bank" scattered quickly in all directions. The Daywalker snorted derisively. "Blood Bank"? They weren't even _trying_ to be subtle anymore. He caught sight of his primary target as the bloodsucker made a bolt for a dark alley: Ahvel Silvey, the vampire who had started the trend of 'stocking' his clubs with young human girls and boys for the enjoyment and convenience of his clients. Ahvel shot down the alley, glancing back over his shoulder to see Blade draw his sword and give chase.

"Oh fuck, fuck," the blonde vampire grunted as he jumped over spilled garbage cans and the occasional passed-out junkie. To his right, up ahead, he spotted another alley, darker and narrower than this one. He pushed himself onward, adding a burst of speed out of desperation.

Blade was three steps away from being able to reach the target when the creature darted suddenly to the right. The hunter skidded to a halt and turned, but before he could enter the smaller passage, he saw Ahvel's body whip through the air into the darkness faster than anyone could have run. An unearthly scream echoed down the brick walls, followed by the sound of something splattering. Blade gripped his sword steadily and took two steps into the alley.

Ahvel's body was slumped against one wall, legs splayed haphazardly, blood running down his fine suit. The figure behind him crouched in the shadows, face hidden by the hooded sweatshirt it wore. Pale, skinny fingers clutched possessively at Ahvel's shoulders and throat in a mockery of an embrace. There was a choked gurgle as the predatory creature detached its mouth from the ragged wound on the vampire's neck, blood spraying wildly for an instant before the figure clamped down on the gash with one hand, stoppering the flow. Blade shifted his stance, his every muscle and nerve screaming danger. The hunched being slowly lifted its head, still obscured, and sniffed the air twice, inhaling deeply, before speaking. The voice was raw, rough as broken glass, but deep and rich underneath the roughness, and somehow terribly familiar.

"_Daywalker_."

"Who the fuck are you?" Blade asked aggressively, one hand going to his belt where he held the syringes of anti-vampire serum.

The figure laughed, dry and cracked, and lifted one hand to pull back its hood.

He was skinnier than Blade remembered him, and the dark circles under his intense, blue-white eyes were even deeper, but there was no mistaking that voice, those eyes, the scar that ran from his bottom lip to his chin. Staring up at him from the filthy ground of the alley, blood staining his mouth, was Jared Nomak.


	2. Before Dawn

Lots of "long, thoughtful silences" in the second half of this chapter, not to mention oh-so-subtle references to other awesome movies/TV shows (and comic books if you squint). Let me know how you like the story thus far!

"You." Blade managed to growl, at a loss. Upon seeing the Reaper's face, he had felt a sudden rush of rage, confusion, loss, and countless other nameless emotions as memories flashed through his mind. Nomak, attacking Nissa in the vampire club and the consequential battle between him and the Daywalker. Nomak, followed by his clutch of predatory ghouls. Nomak, bastard child of ancient vampire lineage and modern science, with his never-ending hunger for blood, both human and vampire. Nomak, sparing Whistler's life in the tunnels. Nomak, tearing out Nissa's throat. Nomak, dying with honor by the sword Blade carried.

_It's strange...it hurts...it hurts no more..._

"Hello, Blade," Nomak replied, an almost casual tone in his raspy voice.

"What the fuck are you doing here? How the fuck are you still alive?" Blade demanded, recovering.

"Obviously, I'm feeding," the Reaper lifted his hand (which, Blade noted, shook with tremors) and gripped Ahvel's bleach-blonde hair, pulling his head back slightly. "I didn't realize I'd snatched him from you. I've only had a mouthful, if you want him back."

The Daywalker snorted and raised his katana. "I don't give a shit about that low-life motherfucker as long as he dies. You, on the other hand..." He pointed the tip of the sword at Nomak, bringing it to rest just to the left of the Reaper's throat, brushing his jaw. To his surprise, the pale creature made no effort to resist. Instead, he tilted his head and let the silver-inlaid steel slip down his neck.

"I've been looking for you," he said quietly, a line of Ahvel's blood running down the indentation in his skin created by the blade.

"Why?" The hunter hissed threateningly.

Nomak coughed twice, wracking his hunched frame, and as he looked up to answer, Ahvel, suddenly jerking upright, lunged forward and grabbed a stake from Blade's belt.

Which he then plunged into Nomak's side.

The Reaper choked and released his grip on the vampire's neck. Ahvel gagged, his blood spraying wildly, and stumbled back, only to be instantly decapitated by Blade's sword. A swirl of ash and ember flew through the air as the former club owner was incinerated. Blade swiped the disintegrating skeleton to the side and stepped forward as Nomak coughed again and slumped to one side.

"This...is an unexpected...problem," he wheezed.

Blade crouched, taking hold of the stake and giving it a hard twist. Nomak held up unexpectedly well, the hunter had to admit; his only reaction to the pain was a surprised gasp, which the Reaper quickly stifled by biting his lip, making it bleed. Irritated by his resilience, Blade twisted again, this time driving the spike deeper. He heard a sizzle and smelled burning flesh and realized that, of all the stakes on his belt, Ahvel had grabbed the single experimental sunstake. It was silver, which wouldn't have had much of a lasting effect on Nomak, but also had four strips of glowing, self-powered UV lights running down its sides. Any normal vampire would have been instantly vaporized, but in the Reaper's case it would just be excruciating unless it hit his heart. As it was, it looked like it had torn through his flesh and stopped just short of hitting the bone encasing his heart. It would be so easy, Blade thought, just to thrust the stake a little further, splinter the bone...Nomak wasn't even resisting, he realized, just lying there and waiting. The hunter looked down at the pale being in confusion and mistrust. Why wasn't he fighting back? It had to be a trick.

"Why were you looking for me?" He snarled, wrenching the barb once more.

Nomak flinched and inhaled sharply, still refusing to cry out. Retching on his own blood as it frothed from his mouth, he managed a few strangled words. "Information...tell...kill..." His jaw continued to work silently for another moment; his eyes widened as he gasped, then rolled back as he passed out.

Blade hesitated, then gave the stake a tug. It tore free of Nomak's body with a squelching, sizzling sound and releasing a cloud of smoke. He examined the wound and cursed. The weapon had punctured one of the Reaper's lungs. Blood had already begun to seep past the damaged tissue and soak his ragged jacket. In a fortunate twist of irony, the UV strips had actually cauterized the tissue in some areas, but it was clear that without treatment he wouldn't last.

Cursing again, the Daywalker hoisted the Reaper's body off the ground, surprised to find that most of the smaller man's body weight seemed to come from the layers of clothing he wore. It was as if his bones were hollow, like a bird (or, more appropriately, a bat). Blade tore off three of Nomak's coats and dumped them, lightening the load and making for easier access to the wound before turning and stalking back into the night.

Grudgingly, he dumped the unconscious vampirivore in the passenger seat of his precious '68 Charger and slammed the door.

They were halfway back to the stronghold when Nomak jerked upright in his seat, his split jaw opening instinctively as he looked about wildly. "Where- where- what-?"

"In my car, bleeding to death all over my seat. That's where and what," Blade snapped. "Now settle the fuck down!" He reached across the seat and grabbed his flailing passenger, pinning him against the seat.

Nomak, looking confused but somewhat apologetic, coughed up a fresh spray of blood all over the hunter's arm before slumping down in his seat once more, his eyes closing.

The sun had just begun to crawl past the distant city skyline when the Charger pulled into the warehouse. Whistler, who was enjoying his morning Narragansett, looked up as his partner emerged and began shutting off the UV lights.

"Whatsa matter, Blade, you afraid to get a suntan all of a sudden?"

The Daywalker opened his side door, grumbling, and jerked his head at the pale form within. "Don't want him goin' up until I get my answers."

The human approached somewhat cautiously and squinted into the vehicle in disbelief. "Nomak? I thought that sumbitch was dead."

"He was. Now he's not. That's why I need answers." Blade hauled the insensate Reaper out and began carrying him toward what Whistler fondly referred to as the "chop table". Dropping him unceremoniously onto it, he reached for a pair of forceps and a scalpel.

Whistler glanced over his friend's shoulder. "What's wrong with him? He looks even worse than last time."

"He got a taste of your new sunstake. Worked like a charm, just when I didn't need it to." Bending, Blade sliced away the pale man's last few shirts and peeled the fabric back to expose the wound.

"Shit-fuck," Whistler commented. "Guess that's why it ain't healed yet."

The injury looked as nasty as ever, but more surprising was the appearance of the Reaper himself. His translucent skin was taut over his jutting ribs and hips; his stomach was sunken, his limbs thin and wiry. It was painfully obvious that he hadn't fed in ages.

"Kid ain't lookin' too good." Whistler leaned in to examine the deep puncture.

"I don't care how he looks; I just need him alive enough to talk."

Jared Nomak woke suddenly, but did not open his eyes yet. He lay still, focusing intently for sounds, smells and sensations that would indicate his surroundings. The first thing to hit was the hunger, as always, twisting and clawing at his gut until he fought it down and concentrated. The air felt close and cool, like it had in the sewers, and he was lying on something familiar: hard steel, cold against his bare skin. He was... naked? No, shirtless. And what felt like a bandage was wrapped around his abdomen. He felt the pressure of chains across his chest, arms, neck and legs. Realization struck him like an electrical current.

He was back in the lab.

The thought filled him with sudden, irrepressible terror. He couldn't be back in the lab; he'd gotten out, he'd been free, he'd...that was right, he'd found Blade. He'd found Blade and then...what had happened? Something had hurt terribly; he could still feel it burning in his side. He'd been stabbed, that was it, by that weasel, Ahvel. Then... something moving, the world flying past a window, more pain... voices... He couldn't remember more.

He slowly opened his eyes. He was in a small, concrete room, chained to what appeared to be an operating table. A bright light strip lined one wall, illuminating the sharp angles of the chamber and drawing his attention to the camera hanging from every corner. The door, which was a solid-looking steel slab, swung open as Blade strode in and stood over the table. The human, Whistler, stuck his head in as he was walking past.

"Mornin', sunshine. How's that scratch doin'?"

Nomak opened his mouth to reply, but his throat contracted in dry protest. Blade closed the door before he could summon enough moisture to answer. The Daywalker reached into his coat and withdrew a chilled I.V. bag of AB+. He brandished it and commanded, "You're gonna drink this. Then you're gonna answer a couple questions."

The Reaper coughed, drew a breath, and finally responded, "I... think I'll... pass, if it's... not too much... trouble."

"It's not poisoned," Blade said, tearing off the cap.

Nomak chuckled weakly. "I never... suspected it of being... poisoned. You're not... that type of man."

"So drink it already," his captor ordered, lowering the sachet.

The smell made Nomak's stomach clench hollowly and his strangely bisected mouth part involuntarily. His tongue darted out and wetted his lower lip, his eyes burning into the bag, before he tore himself away and forced his gaze to remain on the wall. "No."

"Why the fuck not?" Blade demanded, losing his patience.

"You... got that... from a human hospital... yes?" The wounded being continued, his breathing labored. "Someone else... needs that more than... I do. You should take... it back."

"Didn't know you were a fucking altruist. How the hell do you normally feed?" The Daywalker snapped.

"I feed on... vampires, as you know."

"You've killed humans, too. I know it; some of your little posse of Reapettes used to be human."

"Drug dealers," Nomak spat, meeting his gaoler's eyes . "Rapists. Scum. Didn't deserve... even the life of a... vampire."

"Picky eater," Blade commented, begrudgingly impressed by the Reaper's morals. "So, what? Unless I bring you a pimp or a drug dealer, you'll pull a Gandhi? How long do you expect to survive like that?"

"I... don't," Nomak said simply.

"You don't what?" The hunter arched an eyebrow.

"I only wanted... to find you to... give you the information I had... I have no plans to last any longer. That's why I... looked for _you_, Blade. I knew... you would be the one to... finish it," the chained man explained.

"You tracked me down so I could _kill you_?" Blade was incredulous, but Nomak nodded.

"Call it... a trade for the... information. Or, considering your... view of me, a... bonus."

The vampire-human hybrid was silent, seeming to digest this statement, his brows furrowed as if trying to conceive some way that Nomak could be setting him up. After a long moment, the Reaper spoke up.

"Do we have... a deal, Daywalker?"

Blade was quiet another few seconds before replying, "...We'll see. If your info is good, and I don't find out that you're trying to bullshit me or get something else outta this, I'll do it. I gotta ask, though... why?"

This time it was Nomak's turn to fall mute for a few beats. When he spoke, his voice had lowered, his rough accent sharpening his hoarse whisper into a tone of bone-deep exhaustion and suffering. "You know the hunger, Blade. You have felt it. It is... _always_... with me. The pain..." He looked away. "The pain is constant. It ebbs... slightly when I feed, but it returns minutes later, like poison in my blood. I... I do not wish to die of this hunger. If I hunt, I will... be noticed. The vampires will... hear of my activities. They will... find me. And I..." His voice dropped to barely a susurration, "I do not want... to go back to... _them_." He turned those haunted eyes back to the man who had killed him. "I just want a... quick death. I want the pain... to stop once more." He fell silent, struggling for breath.

"Right," Blade said at length. "Well, first things first: How the _fuck_ are you alive?"

"My... father's scientists... the ones that survived, as well as... some new ones," the Reaper said distastefully, "They apparently gathered my ashes... and used samples of... my blood previously collected to revive me. I don't really... understand the specifics."

"When was that?"

"Six..? Yes, six months... ago, or around that." Nomak replied after a pause.

"And what have you been doing between then and now?" Blade asked skeptically. "You haven't been out and about all this time; I would've known."

"No, I only... escaped a week... ago," the pale, shirtless man affirmed. "I... was imprisoned in the laboratories... of the Talos clan."

"Labs? What were they doing to you there?" The hunter was surprised with himself at that. Why did he ask like that? Shouldn't it have been 'what were they doing there?' rather than 'what were they doing _to you_'?

It was admirable, how quickly the Reaper's face went blank, how calm and controlled he sounded when he answered, "It doesn't matter. Nothing important," but Blade was adept at reading people; he caught the sudden twitch of pale hands, the expression that flitted across those icy eyes the instant before they were closed off. The hunger wasn't the only thing Nomak feared.

"So you were at the Talos labs. Where is that?" Blade asked to change the subject somewhat.

"New York City," the injured man answered quickly. "The building I was in... when I escaped was called the... Multi-National United corporate offices. It was just a... front for the clan, of course. There were... other buildings, I know, but I never... got a good look at the exteriors. The trucks they used to transport me... said MNU on some and some sort of fish cannery on others. One said something tech... Primatech. I think one of the... buildings might have been a hospital. Another seemed like a... warehouse or factory. I don't know." He paused for breath, panting.

"Do you know what kind of research they were doing? Who's in charge? What kind of security they have?" The half-breed hunter queried.

Nomak coughed, spat up some blood, and drew several shallow, shaky breaths before answering. "They were trying... to complete my father's experiments. Trying to make... an army of Daywalkers, using me and one other as... a base. There was a woman... in charge, but she was... rarely there. More often it was... a man that, I think, was her... brother. A few others that seemed high-up. Lots of guards, very high-tech... security. They were doing something with... humans, too. Something about feeding. Lots of humans."

"You said there was you and someone else they were using?" Blade said, his mind churning as he processed. "Who was it? Another Reaper?"

Nomak's hollow face darkened, his hairless eyebrows tightening as he ground his teeth. "No. Not a Reaper. Another vampire. A man. Tall, dark-haired, and strong." A shudder ran through him and he clenched his fists. "Very strong," he repeated bitterly.

The Daywalker decided he definitely didn't like that look in Nomak's eyes. Whoever this person was, he was going to be a problem, Blade could tell. "What was his name?"

"I... I don't know his full name," the Reaper swallowed as a wave of pain rolled over him. "But the... the other vampires, they... called him... Drake."


	3. The Man Comes Around

Wow, this chapter has lots of crazy shit going on. A warning: there is some non-con at the end, just in case you guys are not fans.

"Drake?" Blade frowned, running the name through his list of known vampire kingpins and finding none. "Never heard of him. Some newly-turned, hot young vamp who thinks he's got the secret to ruling all mankind, blah blah blah?"

"He's- he's not a vampire," Nomak shifted, trying to relieve pressure on the wound, which had begun to burn and ache once more as the chain around his midsection rubbed against it. "Not... a normal vampire. He's like a super-vampire. All... the others... are terrified of him. Even the woman who... was in charge. They... I think they were trying... to bond our genes. To... combine us."

"That would work better if you were a woman, I'm guessing," Whistler came in carrying a jar of something suspicious-looking in one hand and a chipped mug of coffee in the other.

Nomak looked up at the old man's words, his eyes narrowing for a split second before changing his attention to the jar. "What's that?" He nodded at the container.

Whistler grinned and shook the jar, making its contents slosh disconcertingly. "Time to change those bandages, Buttercup."

"Why? It's not... like I'll be around... long enough to die of infection. At least I... hope not," the Reaper glanced at Blade, whose gaze was focused on the bandages.

"Bleeding's started up again," the hunter said, reaching down and starting to tear away the dressings. "Whistler, gimme the jar."

The human handed the jar over, looking grim, and Blade popped it open, passing the blood bag to his old friend. Nomak tried to lift his head to look down at his injury, but the chain around his neck prevented movement. "What's- what is it? What's..."

The Daywalker stuck a swab into the brackish fluid and swiped it into the wound. Instantly, smoke whisped from it, and the skin around it stretched taut as Nomak's muscles contracted involuntarily from the pain. There was a hissing sound, both from the steaming flesh and from between the Reaper's clenched teeth. Whistler, meanwhile, had wandered around the table to get a better view of the procedure. He leaned over, not seeming too concerned about his proximity to those deadly unhingeable jaws, and squinted at the gash.

"It's still not healing. If we don't get some blood down ya soon, it's gonna keep openin' up and bleeding." He unrolled a fresh bandage and handed it to Blade.

Nomak watched through a veil of quiet anguish as the Daywalker rubbed more of the cauterizing liquid into the wound before binding it tightly, lifting his body easily from the table in spite of the chains and winding the gauze around his malnourished middle four times and pinning it together. Once this was finished, Blade let him drop back down carelessly, making the Reaper gasp at the pain that shot through him. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as he panted, hating himself for showing weakness in front of the Daywalker. Whistler looked up at his protege in irritation.

"Easy there, Blade, that table was expensive."

The hybrid half-smirked. "I'm sure the table doesn't mind." He re-tightened the chains around Nomak's abdomen, then jerked his head toward the entrance. "C'mon. Better start doing our homework; see if there's anything to his intel or if he's just fucking with us."

"I'm... not... lying," Nomak managed.

"We'll see," Blade hissed, standing and opening the door.

"I'll be back later to bring you some chicken soup, Peaches," Whistler added sardonically over his shoulder just before the door slammed.

The moment it shut, Nomak let out a strangled scream, releasing the pent-up agony that had risen to a boil just under his skin.

"So what are you thinkin'?" Whistler asked as he started up his computers.

"I'm thinking he's definitely lying about something," Blade said as he polished a new set of sunstakes. "I just can't figure out what, specifically."

"I think maybe you're just pissed that the kid almost kicked your ass twice," the old human grinned at his friend.

Glowering, Blade changed the subject. "So who's this Drake character?"

"Not sure yet," Whistler punched in a few keys and looked up. "You should ask around a bit when you're out on the town tonight. Maybe you'll get lucky and bump into somebody who knows a thing or two about it."

"While you're at it, see if you can dig up anything on those companies he mentioned: Multi-National United, Primatech. See if they've got any connections to known vampire operations," Blade recommended.

"Thanks, I _have_ been doin' this a while. Pretty sure I know how to investigate shit," the old man retorted.

The Daywalker grinned and went back to his work.

A few hours later, Whistler called his companion over and made a cursory report. "Primatech's a cover operation for something for sure; they're supposedly a paper company but there's no way to actually order paper or contact anybody that works there. Multi-National United's your basic scum-bag superpower corporation. They've got affiliations with everything from the House of Cthon to Massive Dynamic. I'd say our boy in there's telling the truth on that level. Nothin' on Drake; even the vamp chatrooms are hush-hush about him. I sent a message to a contact who may know; should be hearin' back from her soon."

"Right," Blade stood and slid his coat over his shoulders. "I'm heading out. See if I can't catch me some minnows that'll lead us to the big fish." He gestured at the door to Nomak's cell. "You'll keep an eye on him?"

"Sure, we'll play cards, drink a few beers, I'll tell him embarrassing stories about your childhood. The usual." Whistler chuckled at Blade's raised eyebrow and patted the monitors in front of him, which displayed four views of the captive Reaper. "Don't worry; I'll babysit your little friend. Got eyes on him from every angle in there. You go have your fun."

"If he passes out, try to get some blood into him. We don't want him dying just yet."

Blade shouldered his sword and started to walk away when Whistler said offhandedly, "Maybe we don't want him dying at all."

The Daywalker froze, thinking for a moment that he must have misheard, before turning back. "_What_?"

"Think about it, Blade. He hates vampires just as much as you do. I won't be around forever, and when I'm gone-"

"That's not happening for a long time yet, old man," Blade said automatically.

Whistler waved the comment away irritably. "I can't live forever, Blade. When I go, I wanna know I'm not leaving you alone."

The hunter frowned, glancing at the monitors. "It ain't gonna happen, Whistler. Nomak _wants_ to die, and I'm more than willing to comply."

The human shrugged. "Just thinkin' ahead. You go on now, hunt down some information."

Blade strode away, jumping into his Charger and roaring away into the growing darkness outside. Whistler sighed, shaking his head. "Stubborn son of a bitch."

_He writhes as the hunger claws at him, tearing him open from the inside out. Every inch of him burns, a thousand tiny talons dig into his skin, under his nails, behind his eyes. He bites back another scream, his back arching as far as the chains will allow. A deep, smooth voice flows from the dark corner of the room:_

"Hello, little one."

_Panicked, bloodshot eyes fly open and focus on the blurred figure as it steps out of the shadows, tall and cruel and handsome, like silk wrapped around a razor blade. Drake smiles down at the chained man, who has gone stiff with feverish terror._

"You- you... aren't... can't be... not here. Not _here_."

_Drake moves swiftly, like a snake, and in one fluid motion is so close that Nomak can feel his cold breath as their faces brushes against each other, Drake's lips on the Reaper's chin as he whispers, _"Not yet, little one, not _yet_. But soon. I have been inside you, Nomak, body and mind, and I _know_ you. No matter where you hide, I will find you. This man, this Daywalker, he cannot help you. No one can. You are mine, little one, and I will have you back."

_Nomak knows it's useless, that it won't have any effect, but he tries anyway, tries to fight, his powerful jaw snapping around air and imaginary laughter as Drake fades into the recesses of Nomak's mind._

"Soon..."

Despite his misgivings at the beginning of the evening, Blade had lucked out. First he'd managed to locate a club that catered almost exclusively to the Talos clan, and had gotten in without detection, then he'd overheard a conversation about some high-up showing up to discuss something about a missing prisoner with a few other high-ups. Locating said 'high-up' wasn't hard, either; the man wore a black suit and had an entourage of nervous-looking bodyguards that followed him everywhere. Blade trailed them to a back room and hung back, waiting for the rest to show up. It was easy enough to vanish into the crowd of dancing bodies and strobing lights.

The other high-ups turned out to be representatives from two other clans, both looking equally anxious and irritated. Without being too conspicuous, Blade managed to slip a mic under the door while the guards were busy feeding on a teenage girl who had wandered into the wrong club. From what he could hear, the other two clan members were pissed at the Talos clan for "going too far" and "letting it escape", "endangering all of their kind" and "putting too much faith in arcane science". The Talos vampire was trying to get their support to help hunt the escapee down. The other two seemed pretty disinclined to do so, but were curious. One asked, "Is it true; she thinks she has found the way? She has found him?"

"Yes, it's true; he is with us."

"But Dagon-" the other began.

"He prefers to be called Drake now," the Talos member corrected.

"_Drake_ is uninterested in your goals, is he not?" He sounded skeptical.

"He... he has agreed to help only if we succeed in recapturing the Reaper," admitted Mr. Talos. "Which is why we ask your help. Your two clans have the strongest presence here; with your eyes and ears we could locate him before he has time to build up-"

"An army of Reapers, like last time. Yes, I remember. I remember how the Damaskinos clan destroyed itself. Now your mad Danica wishes to do the same. By waking Drake she has put us in even more danger."

The third vampire, the one that had, for the most part, remained quiet, spoke up. "Dane, wether we agree that their decisions have been wise or not, it seems clear to me that our first priority should be capturing the Reaper. Once that is done we may meet again to discuss our opinions of one another."

There was a long, tense pause before Dane said, "Agreed. Very well, Karlos; the Leichen house will keep its eyes open for the Reaper."

"As will this branch of the house of Erebus," the third vampire, who seemed to be the only woman, said. "We intend to rebuild our reputation after the business with Frost."

"The House of Talos will be indebted to you if you should capture him alive," the first said. "If he dies, however, I fear what will happen. Drake is, apparently, somewhat, ehh, _attached_ to the Reaper."

Outside, Blade gritted his teeth, suddenly disliking this 'Drake' even more.

"Very well." There was the sound of chairs scraping, then footsteps. Blade stepped back into the shadowy crowd as the three emissaries and their guards egressed and went for three different exits. Cursing under his breath, Blade followed the Talos representative as he and his troop entered a parking structure and headed for a large black SUV.

The vampires flinched as one when the first bodyguard went up in flames, a stake piercing his skull. The other guards drew their weapons and looked around anxiously as the Karlos cowered and darted for the car. Blade brought up his rifle and fired four more stakes: One into the door, nailing it shut, and three into the remaining escorts' hearts. Karlos yelped, his sleeve caught in the door, and started to frantically tear off his coat. Blade materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, in front of him, grinning like a bear-trap.

"Oh shit, oh god, don't kill me, please, ghhk!" Mr. Talos was suddenly aware that his feet were no longer touching the ground; the Daywalker had hoisted him up by the throat, twirling a stake in his free hand.

"Hi there," Blade said casually, flipping the stake up and catching it. "Couldn't help but overhear a few things, and I got some questions for you. Just take a minute of your time."

The vampire whimpered. Blade lowered him enough so that he could talk and began. "Okay. So tell me about this Drake fella. For starters, tell me who the fuck he is."

"He- he- he's th-the first. The oldest vampire in the world. He's b-been sleeping for h-hundreds of years; no one knew where he was and- and Danica found him and resurrected him. H-he's where the vampire originated from and he's... th-the strongest and-"

"And what, exactly, is the Talos clan planning on doing with him?" Blade asked, annoyed by the vampire's stuttering.

"I- I can't tell y- _aaaagghhhh_!" Karlos screamed as the stake was driven through his kneecap. "Oh god, oh god, please don't-"

"Y'know, I don't think he's listening," Blade said, yanking the stake free. "Maybe if you yell a little louder." He slammed the spike into the vampire's other leg, earning another howl of pain.

"_AAAAGHH_ c-combine his DNA with the R-Reaper's, m-make a master race. T-take over, make humans into c-cattle, oh fuck this hurts, oh shit!"

"Why combine his DNA, if this Drake guy's so perfect?" Blade pulled the stake out once more, preparing to stab Karlos' gut.

"The Reaper... h-he's got some kind of- of special immune system. H-he's harder to kill; disease doesn't effect him like it d-does the rest of us. E-even Drake has _aaahhh_ weaknesses," The Talos representative whined and squirmed, trying to get away.

Blade considered for a moment, then asked, "So where is Drake hiding out?"

"I- I can't, I can't, they'll k-kill me-"

"Really? That's interesting," the Daywalker twirled the stake. "The fact that you think you'll survive long enough for your bosses to punish you, that is. Now tell me, and I'll make it quicker than they would."

Karlos slumped, still whimpering from the pain, and muttered, "New York. He's in... New York. At the- the Talos headquarters. The MNU building."

Blade nodded in satisfaction. "Thanks for your time." He plunged the silver into Karlos' left eye socket and the vampire disappeared into a screaming shower of ash. The hunter turned to head back to his car, wondering if there was still time to rack down the other two representatives, when he heard voices enter the garage. Ducking behind the SUV, he spotted a pair of vampires, dressed in club clothes, wandering toward the street entrance. One appeared to be extolling the virtues of some new vampire drug.

"I tell ya, man, this shit is the best. Comes on smooth, but it's got a punch like Donkey Kong on 'roids. Keep you buzzed and pumped up all night long."

"Yeah?" His friend said, looking like he didn't need much convincing.

"Hell yeah, man, this is the shit. You take a hit, you'll see what I mean." The dealer reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of red powder.

Blade stood up. "Hey!" He called across the parking structure. The two turned and looked at him in surprise. He grinned. "You shouldn't do drugs."

He shot across the lot before either of them could react and chopped the buyer's arm off with one easy stroke of his sword. He screamed and took off, and the dealer started to scurry backwards, trying to run in spite of his baggy pants, which hung so low on him that the belt was at his knees. Leering, Blade whipped the katana across the vampire's chest, slicing his coat open as he exploded and sending a spray of powder up with the ash. The powder flew into the Daywalker's face, and he coughed, accidentally inhaling as he stumbled back. The red particles burned his nose and throat as he caught a lungful. Spitting as much as he could out, he rubbed his eyes, glad he'd been wearing his sunglasses. Still coughing, he staggered back to his car and sat heavily in the front seat. He took several deep breaths, trying to clear his head. After a few moments, he blinked and shook his head, feeling better. He started the car and pulled away.

About five minutes out, he started breathing hard. His heart had begun pounding, his blood rushing through his veins like mercury. He shook himself, trying to brush it off, but every movement only seemed to make it worse. _Keep driving_, he ordered himself. _Get back to the base, then figure out what to do. Lock yourself in a room until it wears off_. He felt his pulse rising and continued to fight it down. The worst part was just how _good_ it was starting to feel. Everything seemed more intense, colors bursting into life in front of him, his skin tingling in a weirdly pleasant way under his coat. He felt... he felt like he needed something. He just wasn't sure what yet. It was like the hunger, but... different. His foot pressed down on the gas pedal and the Charger roared forward, shooting across wet pavement as the first blush of the sun began to color the sky. Most of the lights were off when he pulled into the warehouse, indicating that Whistler had gone to bed. He slid out of the car, reveling for a moment in the smells and sights of his familiar stronghold. Turning, he caught sight of a solid-looking steel door.

_Lock yourself in a room..._

He launched himself at the door, yanked it open, and slammed himself inside the small room. Panting and sweating like he'd just run ten miles, he slid the bolt shut, hoping it would be enough to hold him. The tingling in his skin built and became a maddening buzz, an itch he couldn't scratch. He crouched, knuckling his forehead as he tried to meditate, to slow his heart rate.

"Blade?"

The voice came from the center of the room. The table. Nomak. He'd completely forgotten that Nomak was in that room. At that realization, the buzzing became unbearable, and his eyes dilated so much that his irises were nearly invisible.

"Blade...? Is... that... you...?" Nomak's voice was barely more than a raw whisper, and Blade could hear him trembling with hunger and pain. "Did... did you... find... out... anything?"

The Daywalker rose slowly, chest heaving, and looked down at the chained man on the table. In the dark, his vision outlined the Reaper in silvery luminescence, pale and thin like something carved from moonlight. Suddenly, a wave of heat rushed through him, unstoppable and overpowering, and he pulled off his coat, dumping it on the floor, his sword landing with a crash.

"What's- what's wrong?" Nomak's voice had taken on a worried edge, and Blade saw him shift uncomfortably.

No, the coat hadn't been enough. He was still boiling, and the buzzing was almost a burning, driving him crazy. He ripped off his vest, his shirt, actually shredding the material, and still it wasn't enough. At this point Nomak, despite his barely-aware state of starvation, realized what was happening.

"Blade. Don't," he said in a panicky tone, struggling weakly against the chains. In his normal state, he would have broken through them like they were dental floss, but he could hardly raise his head at this point. "Please," his voice cracked as the Daywalker approached the stainless steel table. "Blade. You're not... something's... wrong... you have... to... Please, don't..."

His entreaties fell on deaf ears as Blade shucked his trousers and snapped the chain around Nomak's legs. Nomak shut his eyes when he felt his own trousers slide down and disappear. The drugged hunter threw the clothing past his shoulder, hearing it hit the floor, and climbed onto the table. He brought his face down until it was just above the Reaper's and, gripping his pale legs, growled, "Look at me."

Nomak shivered at the predatory tone in the Daywalker's voice but did not look up. He didn't want to see Blade's face right now, didn't want to see the expression he knew was there. Hate. Rage. Brutality. Blade growled again, low in his throat, an animalistic sound, and rammed himself into Nomak. The Reaper grunted at the pain, teeth clenched so tightly that his gums began to bleed, and his eyes shot open automatically. His fingers clawed at the table, gouging into the metal. Blade's face was right in front of his, lowered, his breath hot and moist on Nomak's throat. The hybrid inhaled, relishing the heady scent of fear and agony, then began to thrust.

Nomak's head went back sharply, cracking against the table. He half-wished the hit had been hard enough to knock him out. _Bite him_, his instincts urged. _Bite him and feed and break the chains and escape. Kill him_. He forced his head sideways, staring at the wall, determined not to struggle. He'd gotten good at it, actually, in the laboratories. He shut himself down as the hunter pounded into him, groaning hoarsely. His mind numbed itself to the outside world, to the bruises as they formed on his legs, the blood that dripped onto the table from his bandages and from between his legs. He had almost blocked everything when Blade moaned his name.

"_Urrhh_... **Nomak**... _fuck_... _uhnn_..." The Daywalker grabbed one of the Reaper's shoulders, the other hand still clutching one of his legs, and licked the scar up his ivory, exposed throat and chin, up to his lower lip, and suddenly Nomak tilted his head up and caught Blade's mouth in his.

It lasted only a second before the hunter snarled and backhanded the wounded man under him, Nomak's head striking the table again as he winced. Blade bared his teeth and pulled his face away, speeding up his thrusts as he neared his climax. The burning under his skin had become a raging, rushing high that went straight to his groin, making him dizzy with lust. He roared as he slammed in once, twice, three times more, then slowed. His heart sounded like a jackhammer in his own ears, his breath pulling in and out of him like tidal wave after tidal wave. The burning ebbed back to tingling once more, and he groaned and let himself collapse onto Nomak's prone form. He lay still for a long moment, and Nomak, after a few minutes, spoke.

"Blade... Are you... is it..." _Is it over?_ He wanted to ask. He tried to lift a hand, to wake the Daywalker, but the chains were too tight to lift it more than an inch. "Blade..."

Blade's head snapped up. The burning rose, the heat poured through him, and he made a guttural sound, a deep dangerous noise.

"_Oh_, _Daywalker_," Nomak whispered despairingly, "_No_."

It went on for hours.

Wow, depressing ending to this chapter, no? Sorry. Hopefully it'll get better. Of course, I'm not really 100% that anybody is actually reading this, so... um... whatever.


	4. Helter Skelter

Blade rolled over. He was uncomfortable; his head pounded in time with his pulse, he was cold and his bed was strangely hard. He opened his eyes. _Oh_. He was cold because he was naked, and his bed was hard because it was a floor. As for the headache... he struggled through a web of hazy fog, trying to remember. _Hunt... secrets... Drake... Talos... drug... Nomak... Nomak? _

Like a dam had broken, the events of the previous night poured through his mind. He stood quickly, pulling on his trousers, and looked down at the table. The Reaper lay naked and still chained from the waist up, his sunken eyes closed. He was utterly still, and for a moment Blade wondered if he had died, but then his chest moved shallowly, drawing a slow breath and releasing it. The bandage around his middle was soaked with dark, greenish blood, and more of the fluid lay in pools on the cold metal. A dried line of it ran from his nose to his chin, one lip split and swollen.

The Daywalker was frozen as he stared at the damage. He took a breath.

"Nomak."

There was no response, so he tried again, louder. "Nomak. Wake up."

Nomak twitched and, wincing but not opening his eyes, slowly, painfully shifted his legs, spreading them resignedly.

Something cold filled Blade's stomach, an icy weight roiling up and burning his throat. Without another word, he turned and left, grabbing his coat as he slammed the door.

"Well, look who's up early," Whistler commented as his friend strode past. "Boy, do you look like shit. Late night at the office?"

The hunter didn't respond, just pulled his coat on and snatched up his keys.

"I have to check on something" he called over his shoulder. "Don't go in there until I get back."

Whistler frowned, brow wrinkling, and glanced at the monitors from the holding cell. "What the..." He looked up as the Charger rumbled away.

... * ...

it didn't take long for Blade to spot what he was looking for. He parked the car under an overpass and headed for the street corner where he'd seen the man hovering around, the brick wall behind him graffitied with a vampire glyph. Human, of course, or he wouldn't be out at seven am. Blade nodded at him casually and the man followed him into the alley nearby.

"How you doing, bro?" The man asked in a friendly pretense. "Somethin' I can help you with?"

_Obviously a new familiar_, the Daywalker thought critically, _otherwise he'd have recognized me and run for it._ Out loud he said, "Maybe. I got a bit of a problem."

"Tell the doctor your sorrows, my friend," the familiar said with confidence. "I got the cure to what ails ya."

"I got a friend who took some stuff last night," Blade began, glancing over his shoulder in a calculatedly nervous manner. "This friend, he don't come out much during the day. You hearing me?"

There was an immediate change in the man's demeanor. He hunched his back conspiratorially and was suddenly all business. "Right. What'd he take? How much? What house is he?"

"Talos," Blade said off the top of his head. "I dunno what it was called. Some kind of red powder. He inhaled a handful of it."

"A handful?" The guy raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Man, I feel bad for whatever bitch got stuck stayin' up with him." He grinned unpleasantly. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," was all the hunter could manage. "What my friend wants to know is are there any side effects? Withdrawal, that kind of shit?"

The familiar shook his head vehemently. "Naw, man, none of that. Not unless there was some crack or something mixed in. The bosses, they got real problems with addiction, y'know? That's why this new shit is so popular; it don't hook you, just catch and release."

Blade nodded, relieved. "Thanks. He'll be glad to hear that."

The dealer smiled again and leaned back against the wall, looking much more nonchalant now that the 'problem' was dealt with. "So, now that's taken care of, how 'bout I hook you up, my brother? Give you a discount, seein' as we got mutual acquaintances."

"Hook me up..." Blade said thoughtfully. "You know what, that sounds great."

"Great," the familiar grinned and spread his arms in a displaying gesture. "What can I get y-"

He was cut off by a swift sucker punch. The dealer swayed in place for a moment before crumpling into a heap at the Daywalker's feet. Blade grabbed the man's hood and swung him over his shoulder, walking away down the alley toward his car.

... ~ ...

Whistler was tinkering with a new form of light grenade when the Charger pulled back in. A reproachful expression on his face, he watched Blade emerge, walk around to the back of the car, and pull an unconscious man from the trunk.

"You startin' a harem, Blade?" He asked as Blade slung the passive dealer over his shoulder again.

The Daywalker glowered in only half-serious irritation as he strode past and, with only a split second's hesitation, opened the door to the holding cell.

Nomak's eyes opened and closed spasmodically like a camera shutter as he tried to lock onto the figure in the doorway. His vision kept sliding frustratingly in and out of focus. His head felt incredibly heavy, yet strangely empty.

Blade stopped a foot away from the table, holding up a hand to get the dazed Reaper's attention. "Nomak. You need to feed. You understand?"

Slowly, Nomak nodded, then, frowning, shook his head. Blade sighed.

"Look," he dropped the dealer and gripped his head, pulling him into Nomak's view. "See him? You're gonna feed on him. Got it?"

The starving being shook his head again, mouthing words silently through dry, cracked lips. Blade got the message and shook the unconscious man angrily. "He's nobody the world will regret losing. He's a familiar _and_ a drug dealer. He's fucking scum, your favorite flavor. Now do it." He pulled the familiar's head up to Nomak's, baring his throat. The thick vein just under the skin pulsed sluggishly, the smell of sweat and drugs and cheap aftershave masking the scent of blood. The Reaper lifted his head shakily and parted his lips indecisively. The dealer's eyelids fluttered and he moaned, coming to. He yelped as he grasped the situation, and he began to struggle.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?" He thrashed, but Blade kept a firm grip on him. "What the _fuck_, man? What- don't-"

Impatiently, the Daywalker brought a knife up and jabbed it into the man's neck. A hot spray of carmine spattered across the table, six fat droplets landing directly on Nomak's lips. His tongue darted out tentatively, catching a single smear. As if some final barrier suddenly crumbled, his china-colored eyes shot wide open, his jaw snapping apart like a trap, his strange, spiny tongue fully visible for a flash before it buried itself in the dealer's throat. The familiar gurgled once, still thrashing for a moment, then went limp as the natural sedative in the Reaper's fangs filled his veins. Nomak's eyes slid shut, his brow furrowing in concentration as he inhaled the man's life force. Slowly, bands of muscle webbed their way across the gaping wound under his bandages, tissue-thin layers of translucent skin shot through with blue veins spreading over it. After only a few minutes, he pulled away, blinking, his jaws retracting. He shuddered twice, the feral gleam leaving his gaze, and let his head drop back down, chest heaving. Blade let the drained man fall to the floor with a crack, then bent down to pick up the discarded pair of pants that still lay on the concrete.

The Reaper was silent, still listless and weak, and made no effort to help or hinder as the Daywalker lifted his still-unchained ankles and slid his legs back into the trousers. Blade was equally mute for a moment, trying to keep his eyes locked on his hands. Tugging the garment up around the smaller man's jutting hips, he looked up, not quite meeting the Reaper's eyes, and said, "So."

Nomak's gaze lifted, locking onto his captor's face.

Blade glanced quickly at the Reaper, then back to some distant spot on the wall. "You didn't fight me," he said.

Nomak turned his head, his eyes closing briefly. "No."

"You didn't even try."

"No."

Blade crossed his arms. "You could've bitten me. "

"...Yes."

"You probably _should've_ bitten me. Maybe it would've brought me back to my senses long enough to get outta the room."

Nomak canted his head ever so slightly to one side. "Maybe."

The Daywalker was quiet once more, still standing over the table with arms folded over his chest. After a minute or so, he bent down and, grunting, snapped each of the chains around the Reaper. Nomak looked up at him, uncertainty and surprise in his expression. Dropping the chains onto the familiar's body, Blade said decisively, "Whistler and I are going to New York; you're coming along."

"What?" Nomak looked bewildered, sitting up in spite of the fact that he was clearly tiring again, his body obviously not recovered yet. "Why?"

"Why do you think? So we can find this Drake fucker and deal with him." The hunter walked over to the door, dragging the dealer and chains behind him.

Shaking his head, the Reaper started to climb off the table. "Why do you need me along? Can't you... just-" His legs gave out and he sat shakily on the edge of the steel surface, breathing heavily. Already, the unsatisfied hunger crept back, held at bay but always present. He reached out a hand, fingers extending. "Blade. Please. Just... just do it."

Blade paused in the doorway. "You're the only one that's been inside those buildings. You know the layout better than we do; the security."

"Can't I just draw you... a map?"

The half-breed sighed and looked over his shoulder at the Reaper. "Look... If you're still set on it, I'll kill you when it's over."

Nomak nodded once. "You... you should put him," he indicated the familiar, who had begun to spasm, "In the sun. I, ah... I accidentally injected him."

"Thanks for the tip," the Daywalker bared his teeth in a grin and closed the door behind himself.

Nomak sank back into a prone position, curling in on himself as he felt his body distribute the last drops of strength from his feeding. He winced as he felt the tears from the night before suture themselves shut. Closing his eyes, he tried to fall asleep, or at least lower his activity to allow his body to conserve energy.

_Little one..._

His eyes snapped open, his entire frame tensing. No one, there was no one there, no looming figure in the small chamber, no smiling sinister face in front of his. Only the voice, deep and velvety, flowing into his mind as clearly as if the speaker were whispering in his ear.

_Little Nomak..._

_You are coming back..._

_Coming back to me..._

"No," Nomak said aloud, "No, I'm not. The Daywalker will-"

_Aahhh, the Daywalker_, the voice intoned. _The half-blood hunter. The man you place your faith in so trustingly. What would I have to do, I wonder, to earn such trust? Kill you, as he has?_ Ghostly fingertips brushed his cheek; he flinched away from them. _How easily he has tamed you_, Drake mused. _I envy him. I suppose I will have to find my own way, after I kill him and you are mine once more._

"_Never_," the Reaper spat, raising his head defiantly. "You will _die_, even if it's not by my hand. The Hunter will kill us both."

_No_... The ancient vampire sighed. _He comes to his end soon, and once he is gone my petty, foolish children and I will rule once more._

... ~ ...

Blade pulled open one of the side doors of the warehouse and casually tossed the twitching, re-animated familiar out onto the pavement. Halfway through the air he burst into flame, screaming, his jaw cracking open a split second before he was completely incinerated. Quickly scattering the ashes with the toe of his boot (just to be sure), Blade shut the door and strode over to Whistler, who was hanging up the phone.

"That was a friend of mine that owns a private jet. Says he'll loan it to us for the trip to New York." He jerked his head in the direction of the cell. "How's he doin'?"

The Daywalker didn't answer; he opened the refrigerator and grabbed an ampule of serum before stalking away to his bedroom. Whistler sighed, shaking his head, and began packing.

...

So, quick question for those of you that are actually reading this: Nightstalker involvement: yes or no?


	5. Dismantle Me

I am quite pleased with this chapter, in spite of how long it took to write. I got to use my creepily extensive knowledge of torture methods! Wheeee!

:

The plane was fairly roomy, but had worrying patches of rust and loose bolts (and a grey stain on the headrest of one of the seats that looked suspiciously like brain fluid). The flight was surprisingly smooth, and they touched down within a few hours on the runway of an abandoned private airport.

"Our contacts are meetin' us here," Whistler said. "But I dunno if they're gonna be here yet; we're pretty early and they're not quite the sophisticated professionals we are." He began sorting through the pile of duffel bags behind the seats. Blade unbuckled his seatbelt and checked the clip on his pistol. He looked over at Nomak; the Reaper had conked out an hour into the flight and was curled up in his chair, hood up, forehead pressed against the window. The Daywalker started to reach for the sleeping man's shoulder, hesitated, then turned and headed for the door. Whistler chuckled.

"Don't wanna wake Sleeping Beauty over there?"

"No reason to wake him until your pals get here," the hunter said gruffly.

Stepping off the small ladder onto the tarmac, Blade was greeted a pair of humans, a man and a woman, both holding rather large and complicated-looking guns. He raised a single eyebrow behind his shades and said, "I wouldn't if I were you, kids. There ain't nearly enough of you to take me on."

The woman shook her head, lowering the weapon. "We're not here to fight, Blade."

"You're a pretty unusual welcome wagon, then."

The man grinned. "Well, we heard you were looking to hire the A-Team."

That got him blank stares from both the Daywalker and the woman. The guy threw up his hands exasperatedly. "Aw, come on! It was a great show!"

The woman, ignoring her partner's outburst, extended a hand. "We're the contacts that Whistler told you about. I'm Abby; this is Hannibal King. We're Nightstalkers."

"Sounds like the name of a supervillian from Saturday morning cartoons," Blade said derisively.

"That's exactly what I said when they told me," Whistler said as he emerged from the plane, toting a duffel bag of supplies. He dropped the bag and shook the woman's hand. "Abby."

Abigail nodded, a nervous smile lighting her face for half a second before it was replaced by a stern, businesslike expression.

The half-blood glanced back and forth from Abby to Whistler. "And you two know each other because...?"

"She's my daughter," the old man explained. "Different mother. I had no idea she existed, but she tracked me down a couple months ago. They fight vampires up in these parts."

"We're like BPRD to your Hellboy," Hannibal added. "Not quite as awesome, but still pretty awesome."

Whistler's daughter shook her head, rolling her eyes, then gestured at the parked van about ten meters away. "We should get going. The base isn't far."

"Will we make it before sunrise?" Whistler asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Why, you worried your glass slippers are gonnaWHOA WATCH OUT!" King suddenly whipped his gun up and fired twice, glowing bullets zipping past Blade's head and toward the plane behind him.

Everyone spun around, alert and tense, just in time to see Nomak, in the doorway of the plane, looking surprised by the appearance of two smoking holes in his gut.

"Ow," he said before he collapsed.

"Shit!" Blade shot up the ladder and grabbed the Reaper under the arms before he hit the floor. "What the fuck was that?"

"King, you moron!" Abby snapped. "I told you there were three people arriving, and you go and shoot one of them. I can't take you anywhere."

"Good job, dickweed." Whistler added, walking stiffly back toward the plane.

"Okay, are we in an episode of The Twilight Zone? Has everybody but me gone crazy?" Hannibal looked around in irritation, then pointed at Nomak. "_That_ is a Reaper. In fact, that is not just any Reaper, that is _the_ Reaper. And you guys are seriously angry at me for shooting him?"

"Nomak," The Daywalker carefully lowered the injured man to the floor. Seeing the Reaper's eyes flutter half-shut, Blade gave him a slight shake, jolting him into wakefulness. "_Nomak_."

"That... hurt," wheezed the smaller man, raising his head to look down at his wounds. "What- what were those? Those... don't feel... like n-normal bullets."

"They're called Sundogs," Abby said helpfully. "They, um, they're basically incendiary UV rounds."

"That's just fucking perfect." Whistler bent over the Reaper and made a cursory examination of the smoldering holes. "Think you can hang in there 'til we get back to these geniuses' hideout, kid?"

"Sure," Nomak attempted a reassuring half-smile. It was not reassuring. Not at all.

The hunter and his mentor hauled the wounded man over to the van and eased him into the back seat. During the entire ride, Blade's gaze travelled a constant repeated circuit, from glancing back to check on the Reaper to shooting a burning glare at Hannibal.

It was not a warm and friendly meeting of allies when they reached the Nightstalker's hideout. Nomak was carefully placed in the hospital wing, where a blind woman presented as Sommerfield stitched him up and gave him some painkillers. The rest of the group, who had by that point gathered rather nervously around the operating table, their hands on their weapons, introduced themselves to Blade. His only response was a stern gaze and folded arms.

"That's how he... greets everybody," Nomak said to them in as lighthearted a voice as possible. This seemed to disarm several of them; Whistler snorted, Sommerfield even laughed.

The tension somewhat diffused, Blade turned and walked down the hallway to explore the base; get an idea of its defensibility. Halfway through, he spun and drew his sword, ready to slash-

-Abby jumped back, hands raised. "Easy!"

The Daywalker frowned and sheathed his weapon, dropping his defensive stance. "What's the problem; your buddy shoot Nomak again? Or was it Whistler this time?"

"Look," Abigail crossed her own arms, mirroring the half-blood. "If we're gonna work together, and I hope we are, we need to trust each other. We need to understand a few things about one another."

Blade leaned against a wall. "I'm listening."

"First off, I wanna apologize for King," the huntress lowered her arms and stuck her hands in her pockets. "He really doesn't like vampires."

"Neither does the guy he shot."

Abby's brow furrowed. "What? He _is_ a vampire."

"Not exactly. It's complicated."

She shook her head. "Regardless, Hannibal has his own reasons. He... was a vampire. For a long time. We found him, cured him, and recruited him, and he's never gone back. But like I said, he has some serious anger issues with vampires. He just saw your friend and freaked."

"He's not my-" Blade started, then cut himself off, glaring again. "It sure doesn't say much for you and your gang if that's how easily you freak."

"It won't happen again."

"If it does, I'm shooting King in the nuts."

"If it happens again, _I'll_ shoot King in the nuts." Abby quipped.

The Daywalker considered a moment, then nodded. "You had some questions."

"Yeah. Just a couple." She cracked her knuckles. "Now, have you heard of Drake? Has Whistler mentioned anything, briefed you, told you about him?"

"Nomak told me about him. Said he was some kind of super-vampire, that he was running the show. Said he's one scary motherfucker."

"He is that. That and more." Abby sighed and rubbed her brow. "We'll give you a full rundown later, along with any other info we have on his allies. We've got some tools and weapons I think you'll find useful, too."

Blade nodded again. "Anything else?"

"Well... I'm curious." The Nightstalker tilted her head, glancing over her shoulder. "You say the Reaper's not your friend, and I know you two have a less-than-friendly past, but... you were awfully pissed when he got hurt, and this is the first time since we met that you've left his side. And he seems at ease around you." She shrugged. "So what exactly is the deal between you two?"

There was a moment of silence.

"You actually expecting an answer to that?" Blade asked, arching an eyebrow.

Abigail shook her head, half-grinning. "Not really. Just wondering."

"Good, 'cause you're not getting one." The hybrid turned and walked back toward the hospital.

King and Sommerfield were still in the room when Blade returned. The table was empty, the scientist sterilizing her needles and scalpel. Abby arrived a few paces behind the Daywalker.

"Where'd the Reaper go?" She asked her teammates.

"He's in a holding cell." Hannibal said casually.

"What? Why not the medical bay?"

"Some of us were more... comfortable with the idea of him being in one of the cells," the blind woman explained.

"Okay, really now, guys, you are starting to make us look like a bunch of dicks." Abigail groaned. "Tell me you didn't chain him up, at least."

"Just one. Around his wrist." King caught their belligerent stares and threw his arms up defensively. "Hey, it's a lot better than letting that thing run around the base! C'mon, Abby, we've got a _kid_ here!"

Blade's glare could have melted steel.

"It's okay, Blade," Whistler came back into the room, carrying a shot of the hybrid's serum. "He went willingly; said he doesn't want trouble."

The hunter tilted his head consentingly. "Fine."

There was a pause. Hannibal cleared his throat.

"Okay, well, now that that's taken care of, I believe a little show-and-tell is in order." He led them to what he called the Prize Room, where an impressive display of weapons, from silver stakes to what looked like a lightsaber crossbow, decorated the walls. They were introduced to the various Sundog-firing guns, stake-pumping machine guns, and UV grenades.

"Here's something new." Abby held up what appeared to be a basic stake with small, glowing nodules on the end. She twirled it easily, then punched it into a nearby mannequin's chest and yanked it free. The hole left by the spike was lit from inside, a pulsing glow that gave off a faint beeping. "Take a few steps back," she cautioned.

They ducked around a wall as Whistler's daughter continued to explain. "The lights on the head of the stake are miniature UV bombs with silver nitrate. They break off inside the wound, which trips a sixty second countdown. That way, even if the vamp pulls the stake out, they're fucked, along with any other suckers near them, and you get a minute to get out of the way."

There was a blast of light; the wall shook.

Abby grinned dangerously. "We call 'em Stingers."

Whistler nodded. "Nice."

"We aim to please," Hannibal said courteously. He swept his hand in a dramatic "Vanna White" gesture. "Now, if you gentlemen would care to follow me to the lab, I'm sure our lovely scientist will be glad to show you our pride and joy, a little something called Daystar."

:[ ]:

Nomak was resting as comfortably as possible on the bed he was chained to when the door opened and Blade entered.

"They explain everything to you?" The hunter asked.

"About the virus? Yes." The Reaper nodded, holding up an arm to display the fresh needle mark inside his elbow. "They took some blood samples, to help their research." He lowered the arm and cocked his head. "When do we leave? To attack the lab, I mean."

Blade scowled behind his shades. "Soon, but you're not coming with."

"What? Why?"

The Daywalker tossed his head dismissively. "These amateurs are still pissing themselves over the fact that you're here. They want you to chill here with one of them as a babysitter 'til we get back."

"But-"

"If we find anything, you come along on the next hit. We're only going for the Multi-National building this time." The half-blood glanced at the bullet holes in Nomak's shirt. "You need to heal anyway."

The chained man was obviously in two minds about the decision, but he sighed. "I... realize that this is a foolish request, but, Blade... if you meet Drake, none of you should fight him. He's- he doesn't feel pain or fear, he just-" A nearly-imperceptable shudder ran through him. He looked up, eyes sharp. "Just keep away from him. All of you. Until the virus is complete."

"That _is_ a foolish request," Blade said. "Because if I see this Drake motherfucker, I'm gonna take his head off." He grinned ferally for a second. "Now, anything else I should know about this place? What's the layout of it?"

Nomak closed his eyes, brow furrowing, remembering. "It's a big building," he said quietly. "Two guards at every door. The front entrance leads to... three hallways. I never went down the second, but the first, the one on the far left, leads to the labs. The one on the far right leads to stairs, up to their... housing. Like hotel rooms. Their conference room, too, I think. I only went down that hall three- no, four times."

"What for?" Blade wondered.

The Reaper froze. "Nothing," he said stiffly. "Nothing important; it doesn't matter."

"Right," the hunter said, deciding not to push it at the moment. "What about the labs; how big, how many, what kind of facilities? How many vampires?"

"Big. Only one operating room, but there are several labs, and a few rooms I never saw the inside of. The room is... white. Tile and steel. Very high ceiling. There- there were dozens, maybe a hundred vampires there at a time; not nearly as many as the other building. Mostly surgeons and scientists. The woman in charge came by about once a week with her followers. Drake was there more; sometimes three times a day." He faltered, and Blade noticed that his chest was heaving and his fingers were curled into fists. "There are at least four entrances; the one I escaped through was the main one. The one they usually brought me in through is the garage entrance underground. There are two more; one on the East side of the building, past all the rooms- I almost escaped out that one once- and another at the back, behind the cells. That one is padlocked and barred, and it has an alarm system." He sighed again, heavily, and opened his eyes. "That's all I can think of."

"Good." The Daywalker turned to go. "That'll help."

:(:

The Reaper had been right; the building _was_ big. Huge. The sign outside it said MNU in big, bold letters. A pair of nervous-looking familiars with 9-mms patrolled the parking lot, and another two stood in front of the door. Blade glanced at the Nightstalker driving the car and made a quick motion with his head. The driver nodded and spun the wheel, swerving into the lot.

"Looks like Thundercats are go, people," Hannibal commented from the back seat as they jolted over a speed bump.

"Get ready to jump," Abby ordered, inserting her earbuds and cranking up the volume on her Mp3.

The van screeched through the near-empty parking lot, clipping one guard and knocking him into the other before pulling up onto the curb at the entrance.

"Go!"

They piled out, King and Abby firing rapidly and hitting the four guards in the gut. Blade rolled, hit the door, Whistler following closely, and shot the camera before entering. The pretty young woman behind the marble front desk rose up halfway, ready to scream, but stopped when King came in with his gun leveled at her.

"That's a bad idea, sweetheart."

The girl nodded frantically, hands raised, until Abigail popped up behind her and conked her on the head with the butt of her pistol. The secretary crumpled like a paper bag.

The group headed down the hall, footsteps echoing off the walls. Aside from the woman at the desk, the building seemed to be empty.

"Oh, now this is just fucking peachy," Hannibal complained as they approached the end of the hall. It split three ways, each new hall pitch dark. "I would say let's flip a coin, but I don't have any three-sided pennies on me."

"This way." Blade drew his sword and strode down the hall to the left.

"Okay, how do you know that? How does he know that?" King asked no one in particular as they followed.

Sudden movement in the dark; a vampire rushed at them, howling. Blade stepped sideways and slashed down, lopping off the creature's head smoothly. It collapsed into glowing ash.

"Call it a hunch," he said over his shoulder.

They moved through the compound with surgical precision, taking out six more vampires along the way. At the end of the hall, the electrical buzz and glow of artificial light leaked under a massive, half-open steel door. Hannibal moved to the front of the group, kicking the door open and entering with gun raised.

"Clear!" He yelled. A moment later they heard him mutter, "Jesus. What the _fuck_?"

The rest of the group entered warily. It was a huge room, white tile and silver metal, with glaring light coming from strips on the high, vaulted ceiling to illuminate the array of alien-looking tools and trays lined against each wall. In the center of the chamber was a low silver table, iron chains and straps at each corner.

"What the fuck is this place?" Abby's voice echoed metallically, breaking the silence.

"One of their labs," Blade responded over his shoulder, examining a steel tray covered in neatly arranged instruments. "I've come across one or two; never this big or fancy, though." He looked up. "Weird that they've only got one operating table."

The female Nightstalker opened a small refrigerator in one corner of the room. "Blood samples." She began pawing through them hopefully. "Maybe there's one from Drake..." After a moment she sighed. "No, of course it couldn't be that easy. Only one donor, labeled 'R1JN'." She pocketed a few vials. "Jeez, there's enough in here to supply a hospital."

"R1 probably stands for Reaper 1. JN... Jared Nomak." The hunter picked up what appeared to be a modernized version of the medieval Pear of Anguish. "Half of this stuff's got absolutely no scientific use. The fuck were they doing here?"

"Blade," it was Whistler, in a small adjoining room. "You're gonna wanna see this." His voice sounded strange.

The room turned out to be a small viewing and recording chamber, one wall dominated by a panel of one-way glass looking into the lab. On the opposing wall were a dozen monitors and control panels. The screens showed various views from security cameras, most of which were focused on the operating table. On the floor in front of them, a vampire sat sullenly under the scope of Hannibal's pistol. The Nightstalker looked slightly nauseous, and he glanced quickly up at Blade, then dropped his gaze, as if ashamed. Frowning, the hybrid walked toward Whistler, who was standing over another monitor, shoulders slumped. His mentor looked up as he approached and sighed with bone-weary heaviness.

"Well," he said to his friend, "Least now we know for certain that the kid ain't lyin'." He stood aside and Blade stepped up to the screen.

It wasn't a live feed. Under the set was a tape player, the display panel reading PLAY in flashing green letters. The time and date at the top right of the screen was set at 2:26 am, a week and a half ago. The image was an overhead view of the steel table. For a moment, the body strapped to it was obscured by the crowd of doctors hovering over it, faces hidden under medical hoods, hands moving continuously. Then one stepped out of view to grab another tool, fingers dark and shiny with something slick, and the subject's face was visible for a moment. There was no audio, but it was obvious that he was screaming with what was left of his mouth. Another scientist backed up, perhaps to get a better view of his or her handiwork, exposing the raw expanse of veins and muscle and sinew that had been a leg. The flayed limb twitched, shuddering, the tendons contracting and releasing in agonized frenzy. The doctor said something to the others, motioning with his or her hands, and everyone stepped back. It was difficult, nearly impossible, to picture the ruined, tortured form on the table as a real, living being. Something living couldn't possibly look like that, so a rational mind chose to see it as something from a Clive Barker movie, a well-done effect, creepy and unsettling but just a prop. But a movie prop didn't scream, didn't silently beg its captors for relief, didn't shake with every breath as the unresponsive figures around him began to attach what looked like wires or tubes to his arteries with tiny barbed clamps. The lead scientist nodded and raised a small metal box, wires running from it, and twisted the knob in its center. Instantly the raw, butchered creature arched against his restraints, every muscle straining with violent spasms, his body convulsing as if he were having a seizure. Smoke began to rise from his flesh, sparks popping and flashing along his circulatory system. He was still screaming, the half of his bisected jaw that was left thrown wide. More smoke flowed from his eye sockets, which appeared to have been excised some time ago. After what seemed like hours, the knob was released, and the nearly-unrecognizable being collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Smoke and fumes obscured the image as the doctors shuffled about, blurry hands darting in and out. When at last the screen cleared, the doctors were gone and an IV had been attached to one arm, pumping a dark liquid into the exposed veins.

Numb, Blade managed to bring a hand up and hit FF on the player. The numbers on the screen sped up, and figures came and went with shaky, strobe-light speed. The mutilated being was subjected to amputation, light-reaction tests, blood draws, vivisection, pressure point tests, sleep deprivation, squassation, another dose of electroshock, multiple tooth and tissue extractions, more blood draws, force-feeding and, when the blood began to heal him, abacination, flinching, and another vivisection. At last, he hung suspended by his wrists, one leg amputated below the knee, the other having had all its toes clipped off hours ago, light gleaming off his still-bare muscles and vessels, apparently allowed to 'rest'. He was alone for about an hour, the IV slowly forcing his body to begin to recover. The door opened again, and a single figure entered as Blade hit PLAY.

He was tall, muscular and tanned, and he wore a loose, unbuttoned linen shirt over leather pants. There was something wrong with his eyes, but the video quality was too poor to tell what. He was smiling, a soft, satin smile that could have almost been mistaken for affectionate. Walking a slow circle around the slaughterhouse shape in front of him, he spoke and ran a hand down the bloody, flayed chest. The tormented being shivered but made no motion to fight back as he had with the scientists. Instead he went limp, his head drooping as the vampire- who Blade knew with absolute certainty was Drake- stepped behind him and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the shredded meat of one shoulder. Murmuring into the remains of an ear, the ancient monster undid the button on his trousers and freed himself and Blade didn't want to see, didn't want Whistler or King or even the sneering vampire in the corner to see what came next, because this was why Nomak flinched when he talked about the labs, why he could only say Drake's name in a hushed tone, why he refused to meet the Daywalker's eyes when questioned. Somehow, though, he couldn't tear his gaze away, not even when Dracula thrust into the raw flesh between the agonized creature's thighs, not when Drake rolled his eyes back and grinned, when he sank his teeth into the carotid artery in front of him. He drank deeply, his hips shifting and his eyes closing in pleasure, then pulled away, lips stained, and lifted an arm to offer his wrist to the prisoner. When the near-dead being turned his head, refusing, Drake snarled and pounded into him, hand fastening around the sticky mess of his throat.

Whirling, shoving King out of the way, Blade grabbed the vampire by the throat and in one swift motion sliced her legs off at the knees. She screamed, high and long and piercing, and her arms clawed at the air. Undeterred, the Daywalker brought his face down to hers and demanded in a low, wrathful growl, "Where. Is. Drake?"

The vampire squirmed, leg stumps kicking helplessly, supported only by Blade's grip on her neck. Suddenly, she let her arms drop and began to laugh, sobbingly, almost hysterically.

"Where is he?" Blade roared. The vampire shook with frenzied giggles, seemingly unable to stop. Blade swung the sword up and chopped off first the right, then left arms. She howled in agony.

Her voice gurgling with blood, the vampire lifted her head and spoke, spraying him with a mist of yellowish fluid. "He's... _gone_... to collect... the _Reaper_."

The room fell into silence, broken only by the labored breathing of the vampire. Without warning, Blade heaved the limbless creature into the air and thrust the katana up under her jaw, the tip of the sword jutting out from her eye socket. She hung for a moment before disintegrating into ember and collapsing. Without changing his expression, the Daywalker turned and charged back out, down the hallway toward the exit.

..."...

Nomak paced anxiously, back and forth as far as the chain would allow. He wished he'd at least been given something to do during the wait. Cracking his neck (a nervous habit), he looked up at the single camera in the wall. The door behind him creaked open, then closed. He turned, thinking Blade must have come back or that one of the remaining Nightstalkers had entered for whatever reason.

Drake stood before him, a cold, cruel smile on his lips.

"Little Nomak."

The eldest vampire's barracuda grin grew as he saw the range of expressions flicker across the Reaper's face: rage, bloodlust, and delicious, barely-hidden terror. He took a step closer and saw the imprisoned man clench his hands into fists.

"You," Nomak said without much conviction, "Are _not_ real."

"Oh? Have you been dreaming of me, _Draga_ Nomak?" Drake purred, knowing full well the effects of his long-distance mental barbs.

The Reaper bared his teeth, instinctively hunching his shoulders and half-opening his bisected jaw. "_Not_. _Real_," he hissed, reverting to the vampiric language.

Dagon's smirk shrank to a silky smile, and he prowled closer, reaching up to stroke Nomak's pale cheek. "Don't I feel real?"

"Don't touch me!" The chained being flinched and shuffled backward.

Ignoring the snarled protest, Drake took yet another step. His arm shot out impossibly fast and caught hold of the Reaper's shirt, pulling him in. Nomak lunged into the grip, his jaw wide, barbed tongue whipping at the ancient vampire's face. He knew it was futile; he'd tried to kill Drake countless times before in the Talos labs. The father of the vampire race laughed as the fangs and spines scraped down his suddenly-armored cheekbone. Nomak swung a fist, putting all his strength behind it, and grunted when it was caught in a bone-crushing grip. He quickly tried to swing the other hand, jerking back when the chain around his wrist pulled taut. Still laughing, Dagon hoisted his prey into the air and struck him three times, in the gut and face, with one spiky, hard-carapaced fist, then tossed him easily onto the bed behind him.

"I've missed your tenacity," Drake said in a pleased tone as he popped the buttons off his linen shirt. "As enjoyable as it was when you ceased to fight me completely, and as much as I longed for you during your... sojourn, I am glad that at least it gave you back some of your temerity." He undid his trousers and approached the bed. "I'll have to thank Blade for that, I suppose." His amber eyes flashed red for an instant, glowing like hot coals. "Except I find it hard to be grateful to one who has known you as I have. How should I repay him, I wonder?"

Nomak launched himself at the vampire a second time, teeth flashing, and managed to land a single blow, cracking the plated chest. Drake hit him again as the crack sealed itself, his nose crunching under those diamond-hard knuckles. The Reaper fell back, gums and chin bloody, momentarily dazed. He felt something sharp in his chest and realized dimly that his stitches had ripped out. Smiling pleasantly once more, the man who had been Dracula tore off the smaller being's shirt. His eyes travelled hungrily down Nomak's still-thin, twice-wounded torso. Struggling frantically, trying to escape that gaze, a desperate idea came to the bound man. He turned his head, neck twisting, mandible splitting, and began to gnaw at his chained arm, serrated teeth working like a hacksaw. He'd just reached the bone when Drake grabbed him by the jaw, squeezing it shut as he forced the Reaper to look at him.

"Apparently you have forgotten, Nomak," the primeval creature said in a soft, menacing voice as he ran the tip of a talon down one of the newest scars that crisscrossed the pale body before him, then applied sudden ruthless pressure to the Reaper's eyes with his fingers. "You are not allowed to do that again. I thought you would have learnt that by now. Remember, little one?"

Nomak could only writhe and scream in guttural agony as one of the long, bony fingers burst through his left eye. Drake pulled his hands away, wiping the vitreous humor and blood onto the sheets, then ever-so-gently cupped the damaged face.

"Don't be afraid," he soothed, nuzzling against Nomak's throat. "You will learn once more." He slid the Reaper's pants down and climbed onto the mattress.

"_No_!" Thrashing, Nomak made another attempt for his arm. Drake jabbed a finger back into the gory eye socket, pressed down once, then tugged it free with a squelch. The disfigured being gritted his teeth, biting back another cry, limbs going weak.

"I warned you," Drake said easily. He grunted, hips shifting, and pulled down his pants, pinning Nomak with his muscular body. The Reaper shut his remaining eye, trying hurriedly to close his mind to the pain.

Suddenly the pressure of the ancient vampire's mass was gone. There was a wall-shaking thud from the other side of the room. Nomak opened his eye with some trepidation and saw Drake getting to his feet, looking slightly irritated at being interrupted.

The Daywalker stood over him, cold, unadulterated fury pouring from him.

"Blade, I presume," Dagon said blithely, standing and buttoning his trousers as he shifted into his demonic, fully-armored form.

Blade didn't speak, just drew his sword and whipped it at the vampire so quickly that the air hissed. Drake ducked, the katana slicing a chink into the concrete behind his head, and swiped his leg out, attempting to knock the hunter off-balance. Blade leapt over the kick, bringing the sword arcing down towards the armored head. The weapon managed to catch Drake's shoulder, snapping off one of the spicules that sprouted from it. Dracula dodged another blow and jumped back, landing lightly on his feet in front of the bed.

Without hesitation Blade lunged at him, swinging the sword at the creature with supernatural strength and speed. Drake blocked the katana with one raised arm, the razor edge cracking his wrist, and with a rapid motion flipped the weapon out of the hunter's grasp. The sword clattered to the floor behind the ancient vampire. Blade drew his gun without hesitation and fired twice, incendiary silver rounds striking the creature's chest and head. Drake stumbled slightly, shaking his head as if to clear it of cobwebs, then stood fully once more. He no longer looked amused.

He rushed at the Daywalker, swiping with his massive, taloned hands at Blade's gut and legs. The hunter tried to leap back, but hit the wall, catching a blow to his torso that shredded the padded vest he wore and tore into his abdomen. He grunted, the first noise he'd made since entering the room, and fired again, aiming at Drake's skull. The bullet missed by millimeters, sending a scattering of shrapnel-like cement chips flying as it hit the floor. Drake struck again, tearing at Blade's stomach before getting a blast in the face that sent him staggering backward. The Daywalker straightened, spitting a jet of blood to one side as the wounds on his chest began to close. He raised the pistol, aimed it, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

The hollow sound echoed in the tiny room, and Blade swore mentally at the extra clip he'd left in the car. Drake rose slowly, the damage to his face sealing, and grinned. The Daywalker drew a pair of stakes, twirling them in each hand in his typical "bring it on, motherfucker" style. Still grinning, Dracula took a step forward-

-and then halted suddenly, choking as a long, thin piece of steel protruded from his chest.

Both Blade and Drake turned in surprise to look at Nomak, still on the bed, his free hand wrapped around the hilt of Blade's fallen sword as it punched through the archaic monster's back. His mouth warped into a silent snarl, his eye socket still a ragged bloody mess, he twisted the sword. Drake spasmed, his own split mandible opening and closing as the katana tore a canyon into his armor. The master of the vampire race pivoted, one leg wobbling, and looked at the Reaper. After a breathless split second, Drake spun, wrenching the sword from Nomak's weakening hand, yanked the weapon out of himself, and began to laugh.

"Tenacious, indeed," he said as the leaking wound knit itself slowly. He smiled his venomous mamba smile again. "You cannot imagine how much I will enjoy breaking you again."

At this, Blade threw himself at the tall, plated creature, light glinting off of the stakes he held. Without looking, Drake plunged the sword into the Daywalker's left leg, just below the knee. Blade fell heavily, swearing. Drake turned over his shoulder to stare down at him with a pensive mien.

"Interesting, isn't it," he said consideringly, "That you so eagerly rush to one another's defense. In your case, Daywalker, I understand. Even sympathize, for I, too, consider the Reaper to be a prize worth fighting for. But," he looked back at Nomak, who was glaring impuissantly from his remaining eye. "I cannot help but wonder, little one, why you feel protective of him. As far as I can see, I have treated you no worse than he, yet never have you displayed such loyalty to me." His arm shot out, grabbing the Reaper by the chin and dragging him forward. Nomak cried out once as his chained arm was dislocated by the sudden force. Drake pulled his struggling prey upward and slid his forked tongue up Nomak's throat. "Don't worry, though. We will have plenty of time to explore that soon." He licked the tip of one pointed ear, then bent, reaching for the chain. "We will take our leave now. Say goodbye-"

The vampiric lord reared back suddenly as a stake pierced the soft spot behind his ear, the silver tip of it emerging from his cheek. Blade scowled and hobbled back as Drake swiped blindly at him, letting Nomak drop onto the bed once more. Dracula growled and reached up to tug the stake free, throwing it into the air with such strength that it stuck into the ceiling. Grimacing, the Daywalker grasped the sword in his leg and drew it free.

"A nice try, Daywalker," Drake said, baring his teeth as the holes closed. "But unlike yourself, weapons such as this will have very little effect on me."

Blade bared his fangs right back in a feral grin. "It will pretty soon, motherfucker."

The creature froze. From inside his cheek, a faint glow was pulsing in time with almost imperceptible beeps as the timer of the Stinger counted down.

The hunter tapped his wrist with one finger, still smirking. "You got one minute."

Drake glanced at him, then back at the Reaper. After a second, he nodded at Blade, an expression of something like respect filling his strange eyes. "Very well. We will see each other again, Daywalker, and fight under better circumstances." He brushed past the hunter and paused in the doorway, looking at Nomak with almost tender cruelty as he crooned, "I will be back for you, brave little Jared."

With that, he melted away into the shadows of the building behind him. Blade shuffled over to the door, sword raised, injured leg still dragging behind him, and searched the darkness. Somewhere in the distance, there was a muffled explosion. The half-blood hunter listened to it, head cocked, then stepped back into the room.

"That blast won't keep him down for long, I'm guessing, but he's gone for now." He glanced into the gloomy halls one more time to be sure, sniffing the air until he could no longer smell the ancient creature's blood and anger. He turned to look at Nomak.

The Reaper was still on the bed, his chained arm dangling uselessly at his side as he tried to sit up. His entire frame was stiff with pain, tension and exhaustion, along with the ever-present hunger that harangued him. Greenish blue ichor ran from his empty eye socket down his cheek, as well as down his arm from where he'd bitten through it. Bruises, brilliantly yellow and cobalt against his pale skin, were welling up on his legs, stomach, arms, and face.

The sight of what Drake had just done, along with the vivid images of what he and the other vampires had done over the past months, rekindled the murderous rage that had driven Blade into the room in the first place. He shut the door with a sudden, swift motion, and took a step toward the bed. Nomak, glancing up at the sound, saw the Daywalker looming from the other side of the room, sword in hand, and mistook the glare for one aimed at him. Unsure what he'd done wrong, but certain that he would not be able to fend off another attack, he fumbled to cover his wounded eye with his good hand, wincing as he collapsed back onto his gnawed arm. He pulled his legs together, hiding his nudity as best as he could.

"Blade... your leg..."

The hunter looked down at where his own sword had stabbed through his leg, then straightened the limb with a crack. "It's fine."

He continued to approach the mattress, growing more furious with each new injury he saw on the Reaper's exposed body. Nomak, of course, grew more anxious with each step the Daywalker took, and for a split second considered chewing all the way through his arm and taking his chances outside. _No_, he thought, _this is what I wanted. He'll kill me again. It'll be over; the hunger, the running, the hunting. Drake will have no hold over me._ He knew he should be content, but he felt disappointment prickling the back of his mind. It would have been... nice, he supposed... to be able to help Blade, Whistler and the Nightstalkers. He raised his head, still covering his eye socket, and nodded once at the hybrid.

Blade raised his sword...

...and slid it back into its sheath on his back. The Reaper blinked in surprise. The half-breed's burning stare travelled over the mangled body once more, then halted and held Nomak's monoptic gaze. After a moment, he seemed to realize the effect his intense silence was having, and he coughed once and said, "You need to heal. I'll go find one of the bags of vampire blood they use in the lab here."

"Uh?" For a second, the Reaper was so thrown that he couldn't speak. He shook his head. "Blade, no- I don't-"

Suddenly the Daywalker was _right there_, leaning with one knee on the bed, his face so close to Nomak's that their noses brushed. "You don't get to argue, Nomak," Blade hissed before pressing his mouth firmly against the Reaper's.

The smaller man froze, brain seemingly shut down, and lay unresponsive as he tried to process the fact that Blade, the Daywalker, the scourge of the vampire race and so on, was _kissing him_. Irritated at the Reaper's passivity, the hunter growled and bit at the bloody lower lip, letting his fangs trace the scar that bisected it. Still in shock, Nomak realized with sudden mistaken understanding that Blade was being _kind_. He was distracting the Reaper, giving him a brief moment of something like pleasure before killing him. In this misguided mindset, the chained being opened his mouth and awkwardly, nervously, began to reciprocate. His long, rough tongue darted out and brushed the hunter's, barbs hidden safely away. Blade groaned and bit Nomak's lip again, swiping it with his own tongue. For an instant, he wondered just how crazy he must have gone, to be forcefully and eagerly kissing the Reaper, a creature with a mouth that could probably rip his tongue out and chew his face off without much effort. The thought vanished when he heard Nomak let out a shocked, half-stifled gasp.

Any second, the injured man thought, he would feel the cold steel slip between his ribs once more. Any second now, the pain would cease. In fact, he realized distantly, he could already feel the pain melting away. Had Blade already done it? No, this was different... Before he could finish the thought, he felt the Daywalker's mouth leave his, giving him half a second to pant before something else was pushed against his lips. He blinked, clearing his vision, and saw that Blade had pressed his wrist against the Reaper's jaws. Without giving Nomak time to protest, the hunter dragged his hand back and forth, letting the sharp teeth shred the skin of his wrist. Blood, hot and rich, flowed into the captive creature's throat, and he coughed, trying to resist, before his instincts overwhelmed him. Clamping down on the arm, he sucked and gasped, sucked and gasped, his free hand coming up to grab hold of Blade's shoulder in a desperate, half-hearted attempt to push him away. Blade shuddered as he felt the rasp of the Reaper's tongue lave over the wound.

Nomak pulled back all at once a minute or so later, chest heaving, licking blood from his chin, and clutched at his eye, grimacing as nerves and vessels regrew and filled in the empty space. He shook himself, then reached down, gripped his right arm, and popped it back into place as the gashes and bites knitted. The bruises along his body shrank or disappeared entirely, and after a series of snaps and pops as his torn muscles and cracked ribs sealed over, he looked up at the Daywalker.

Blade examined his wrist as it closed, surprised to find that he was feeling neither lightheaded nor weak. "You didn't take much."

Nomak shook his head slowly and wiped his mouth again with the back of his hand. "Your blood... something... The pain, the hunger, it's- it's gone."

The half-blood's brow furrowed for a second, and then realization dawned. "It's both. You feed on humans and vampires. My blood _is_ human and vampire. It satisfied both cravings." He lowered his arm. "At least, that makes the most sense."

The Reaper was staring at him in something akin to wonder. "You..."

"What?"

Hesitantly, wary and tense, Nomak said, "You... kissed me."

"Yep." Blade glanced up at the stake impaled in the ceiling, wondering if it was in any danger of falling unexpectedly. It looked secure, so he returned his gaze to the Reaper. The sight of that pale body, muscles shifting under translucent, freshly-healed skin, smoke-blue eyes wide, sent a pulse of heat through the hunter's own form. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the key, and undid the cuff around the smaller man's wrist. He leaned in, crawling predatorily onto the bed. When Nomak didn't pull away, he tilted his head and bit down on a jutting collarbone, not quite breaking the skin. Moon-colored hands came up and dug into his shoulders as the bare chest beneath him hitched once.

He pulled back and unbuckled his torn vest, letting it and his sword fall to the floor behind him. Lowering himself once more, he let a hand fall onto Nomak's leg, sliding up the thigh and pausing just before his intended target. He raised his head and saw that the Reaper had a hollow, distant look in his averted eyes. Blade recognized that look. He'd seen it for an instant that night he'd been drugged, and he's seen it again and again on the tapes. It was the look Nomak got when he was readying himself for an excessive amount of inevitable pain.

The Daywalker scowled, mentally wringing the neck of every vampire in that hellish facility, and brought his lips to the spot where the Reaper's jaw and throat met, sucking, as his hands slid up past Nomak's hips to stroke his chest. He was rewarded with a full-body shiver when his fingers trailed over a nipple, and he repeated the motion on the other side, moving his mouth up to worry the tip of one tapered ear.

"Oh-" It was a quiet sound, cut off as Nomak tried to stifle it before it could escape, but it was somehow the most erotic sound Blade had ever heard. He dropped his hips, resting them against the crevice of the Reaper's closed legs, and after a slightly startled twitch they parted, letting him settle between them. He thrust forward, grinding his own, still-hidden groin against Nomak's.

The pale man shot upward, his eyes wider than Blade had ever seen them, and was suddenly pushing the hunter away and scuttling backwards on the bed, trying to move and cover himself at the same time.

"What's wrong?" The Daywalker asked, frustrated at the loss of that dizzyingly hot contact, but trying his best not to spook the other man.

"I, uh-" Nomak swallowed hard, looking breathless, and stuttered, "I just- I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, ah... I've just- something's..." His face had gone a pale cerulean and Blade realized that that was him blushing and put two and two together.

"You've got a boner," the half-blood said plainly, arching an eyebrow.

Nomak flinched and looked down at his covered lap, as if to check and see if it was still there, and then nodded once, quickly, still not meeting Blade's gaze.

"That was kind of the idea," the hunter pointed out, inching forward. "What's wrong, never had one before?"

He'd meant it mostly as a distracting joke, but the Reaper shook his head and muttered, "Not... really, no. I mean, obviously I... know what to- how to-" He cleared his throat and said in a low, bitter voice, "How it works, but, um..."

"But no one's ever done- this?" The Daywalker gestured to his companion's covered arousal.

"No," Nomak replied hoarsely.

Blade grinned nefariously. "How 'bout _this_?" He moved his hand with swift precision and snaked it under the Reaper's grip, grabbing his half-hard cock and giving it a slight squeeze.

Nomak made a sound like a drowning man coming up for air as he fell onto his back, his long fingers clawing at the space between them. The hunter felt him stiffen, seemingly against his will, and ran his thumb over the head of the growing erection in his hand. The formerly imprisoned being gasped again, eyes rolling back, spine arching. "_Ah_-"

The Daywalker's pants were starting to feel much too restrictive at this point, and he paused his touches to unbelt and pull them down. The noise the Reaper made when he was released was half relief, half overwhelming disappointment, and wholly arousing to the hunter, who struggled to kick the trousers away as quickly as possible and climb back over. Nomak watched him anxiously, every muscle tense as if he expected things to turn violent at any second, for the touches to turn to blows. Blade shook his head and crawled closer, running a palm down the smooth, ivory chest and feeling the faint beat of the bone-encased heart within speed up.

"Relax," he encouraged, his voice deep and husky. His hand continued to slip down, brushing over the taut, flat stomach and reaching-

Nomak couldn't hold back another raspy vocalization as strong fingers encircled him, stroking and applying light pressure, and his hips moved on their own, rolling up into the Daywalker's hold. The bed creaked as Blade shifted, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of the Reaper's hips. He inclined his neck until their faces were inches apart, Nomak's breath ragged against his cheek, and traced an uneven path of bites and nips along the pale jaw. Shuddering, his train of thought completely derailed by the hybrid's actions, the Reaper tried to remain still and submissive, which had proven in the past to be his safest option, but moans and gasps kept finding their way out, and no matter how hard he tried, his body kept responding. Blade's hand was hot and calloused and unfailingly gentle, and his mouth felt like coals against Nomak's skin. His hips bucked again, and he bit his lower lip, hard, turning a groan into a strangled cry as large fingers slid down and cupped him, fondling and caressing. The hunter's free hand was back at his chest, teasing and scratching lines down his stomach with blunt nails. Blade raised his head again, covering the scarred lips with his own once more, and brought both hands up to dig into the thin sheets behind Nomak's shoulders. Before the Reaper could express his dismay at the loss of said hands, the Daywalker dipped his hips, writhing and grinding against the other man's.

"Mm! D-Daywalker- oh-!"

Feeling Nomak arch and tense under him, Blade grinned and increased his thrusts. A stifled, shocked cry and a sudden moisture informed him that the Reaper had come. Filled with triumphant accomplishment, he rolled off of the smaller man and lay, breathing hard, on the bed. He was so caught up in his victory that he didn't notice the creaking of the mattress as it shifted, or the shadow that fell over him. It was only when he felt timorous hands grip the hem of his briefs and slide them down that the hunter opened his eyes and sat up. Nomak was hunched over Blade's still-prominent erection, head bent, and he looked up almost guiltily as the larger man spoke.

"Nomak."

"I'm not going to bite you, I swear," the pale being said quickly. "I was just- you're still-"

"I know you weren't gonna bite me," Blade interrupted. "But you don't-"

"It's all right; I-I know how-"

"I know," the hunter said angrily, the blatant images of the videos flashing before his eyes. Seeing the Reaper freeze, he sighed and continued. "I know you can; I'm saying you don't. Have. To."

Nomak's brow furrowed for a moment, like he didn't quite understand. After a long moment, the corner of his lips quirked up ever so slightly. "...Thank you," he said quietly, then took Blade fully into his mouth.

"_Shit_-!" Blade shot upright, eyes wide. He remained frozen like that until he felt that tongue, that impossibly long tongue, extend and wrap itself around him, sliding and squeezing, and suddenly his bones became liquid and he collapsed back onto the cot, gripping the sheets so hard that they tore under his fingers. "Holy _shit_. Fuck, ahhh, _fuck_... Nomak-"

The Reaper's lower jaw split and the two halves slid down to caress the hybrid's sac as he increased his pace. Blade's hands came up to clutch and stroke at Nomak's smooth head. The pale being groaned quietly, the sound running down Blade's cock and up his spine and making him roar with the overload as he came.

Nomak pulled away, jaw closing, and watched indecisively as the Daywalker lay panting. Blade sighed, sated, and rolled onto his side. He paused, frowning, then looked over his shoulder at his companion. The Reaper was still sitting on the edge of the bed, swaying slightly, his eyes half-lidded. Every few seconds, his head drooped, and he would shake himself a little, trying to keep awake.

"Nomak."

"What?" The exhausted man sat up straight, suddenly alert.

"Y'know it's not an insult to fall asleep after sex." The half-blood's voice was already growing gravelly with sleep. "In fact sometimes it's a compliment."

"Oh."

"That means you can lie down."

"Uhkay." The bed gave a grating complaint as Nomak curled up. The mattress was small, too small to leave any space between them, and after a few seconds of trying to lie on the very edge of it, the Reaper gave in and settled down with his forehead resting gently between Blade's shoulder blades. "You..."

"Uh?" The hunter lifted his head in a half-hearted attempt. "What?"

"Nothing." Nomak shifted. "You're- you're warm." His voice was muffled.

The Daywalker didn't respond, but he reached down and tugged the sheets up over them. "A word of warning, though." He felt the cooler body next to his shift away nervously and he shook his head. "You fall asleep _during_ sex, and I'm not gonna take it as a compliment."

"Nn." The smaller man was already drifting off. Within minutes, there was only the sound of his deep, even breathing against Blade's back.


	6. Daylight

Holy shit this update is a long time coming. Sorry I'm changing the writing a little.

Also, amount of pants worn by the author while writing this: 0%

Number of times said author bitched about being absolutely fucking freezing but was too lazy to actually get up and do something about it (like put on some pants): about 6.

Sorry it's so short, but at least it's something, right? Right?

...right?

*silence*

~""~

The Daywalker is awakened hours later (he's not really sure how many) by a quiet cough, a loud crack, and a sudden bout of cursing.

"Son of a _bitch_ mother fucking _oww_!"

Blade sits up quickly to see King staggering away from the bed, clutching his nose as it gushes red onto his fingers. The half-blood is lost for half an instant until he notices Nomak next to him, groggily apologizing to the Nightstalker as he pulls himself up.

"The hell happened to you?" Blade asks, arching an eyebrow at Hannibal.

"Aw jeez, dude," King tilts his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I jus' came in to wake you guys up. Never doing _that_ again."

"I'm so sorry," Nomak says again, self-consciously bunching the sheets up around his waist.

"What? You pop him in the face or something?" The dark-skinned man flashes a quick grin at his companion.

"Quick reflexes your little buddy's got, there, Blade." Hannibal snaps his nose back into position and grunts, tears in his eyes. "I leaned over the bed for like half a second and his arm just shoots out, clocks me right in the nose."

"It wasn't intentional, I swear." The Reaper winces sympathetically.

"Psht, it totally was," King says, grinning. "It was your subconscious, getting back at me for shooting you." He slaps Nomak on the back. "Don't worry about it. It was a solid punch, man. We're cool."

"That's... good?" The pale being glances questioningly at the Daywalker, who rolls his eyes.

"So, uh," Hannibal snorts once, still blinking away stinging tears, "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey and all that."

"Yeah," Blade growls and rolls his shoulder, nudging Jared and nodding at the floor. "Hand me my pants?"

"Oh!" The smaller man quickly snatches the garment up and hands it over, looking mortified.

"Well." The Nightstalker nods politely at them both. "This has been awkward and informative and I think I'll go now."

The half breed snorts, pulling his pants up.

Twenty minutes later, everyone is gathered in the main room, Sommerfield standing over several digital displays, showing a map of the building and a readout of Daystar. Nomak stands off to one side, looking out-of-place in a bright orange replacement shirt borrowed from King, which reads "No I Don't Fucking Sparkle". He keeps his distance as the plan of attack is laid out, the Nightstalkers ignoring him for the most part except to ask occasionally about an architectural detail or strategic soundness. Blade and Whistler are deep in conversation over a screen, working out exits and entrances. Abby and one of the other Nightstalkers load weapons and recheck cartridges.

There's a sudden warmth, a light pressure on Nomak's hand. He glances down in surprise and sees the girl- Sommerfield's daughter, he remembers- standing next to him, her fingers curled around his, staring up at him with big eyes.

"Hello," he says hesitantly.

"Hi." She tilts her head. "I'm Zoe."

"I'm... Jared." He glances around, looking for help from the others, because he has absolutely no clue how to talk to small humans.

"You hate them, don't you?" She asks solemnly.

"Who?"

"Vampires." Her stare is unwavering, unnervingly somber for her age.

He nods slowly. "Yes. Very much."

She smiles, the first time she's done so since he's seen her, and says, "Me too. I'm glad you and your friends are here to help us kill them." Her gaze turns back to the hunters' activities, her small hand still clutching his, and Nomak decides that talking to small humans is easier than talking to large humans.

An hour or so later, Abby stands, shoulders her bow, and announces, "It's time to go."


	7. Heads Will Roll

So I guess King kind of grew on me, cos he got a much bigger role in this chapter than I had originally planned.

...

The group is separated into three vehicles- two giant black SUVs, which King refers to as 'the tankmobiles' and Blade's precious Charger, which he refused to part with and insists on driving alone. Nomak slides into one of the Nightstalkers' cars alongside King, Abby sitting in the back as she sorts through her Mp3.

"Look, uh..." Hannibal starts the engine, shifts in his seat, and glances at the Reaper. "The other day, with the whole... 'shooting you' thing..." He coughs. "I mean, I have my reasons for hating vampires. I always figured that the stuff that happened to me was- was pretty much the worst that could happen." Another pause. "But- jesus, man, the stuff on those tapes-"

"Tapes?" Nomak looks up, feeling apprehension clench in his gut.

King looks at him again. "The tapes from the lab, man," he says quietly.

Panic freezes the pale being, his eyes going wide. "You saw them? Did Blade see-?"

The Nightstalker nods once. "Yeah. Whistler and Abby, too. Sorry, we just... found them in the lab, when we... Yeah. So, just- sorry, man."

Nomak is silent, his mind churning, pieces falling into place- was that why Blade returned early yesterday? Or had he somehow known that Drake would come after the Reaper once the Nightstalkers were gone? If Blade had seen what Drake had done, how he'd sullied Nomak, then why... _why_ would he _want_ to touch Nomak? Each question gives way to another ten, until his head hurts, cradling his forehead in his palm, elbow resting against the window.

Abby leans forward, _Skunk Anansie_ blasting from her earphones, and taps at the vampire's shoulder. "You okay?" She asks, a little loudly over the music.

He nods, not trusting himself to talk just yet.

She withdraws her hand, checks the alignment of her arrows, paying particular attention to the single virus-tipped one.

The building is big, like the last one, with glass windows and an arched roof dozens of stories up that looks like the flared hood of a cobra. The SUVs pull to a halt across the street, every occupant staring at the vampiric headquarters as they lock and load, preparing for their grand entrance.

"Okay," Whistler says over the comms, "Abby, King and Nomak, you're leadin' the charge- you hit 'em fast and hard, and we come in right behind ya with-"

Before he can finish, the Charger comes roaring past the other cars and goes smashing through the front doors of the building. Half a second later, the sound of gunfire and screaming can be heard.

"Goddammit, Blade!" Whistler snaps into his radio, knowing full well that it's no good. "Alright, boys and girls, I guess we're playin' Follow the Leader. Let's go!"

They all pile out of the vehicles at once and go storming toward the gaping hole made by Blade's forward charge. Nomak breaks out ahead of the group of humans, hurls himself through the shattered glass and rubble and immediately has to duck to avoid the howling vamp that launches herself at him. He catches her throat in his jaws, rips it open with a spray, and lets her fall, her head torn clean off by the bite.

Blade has worked his way through the gathering vampiric forces to the top of a winding, jagged staircase, his sword gleaming in a silver arc as he hacks and slashes. The Reaper snarls at the crowd of monsters surrounding him, sees a few of them- higher-ups most likely- flinch away, recognizing him. Grinning ferally, he lunges for the nearest vampire.

Abby and King enter (leaping over the crumbling wall in Abby's case, stumbling on a piece of debris in Hannibal's case), guns raised, the other Nightstalkers close on their heels. King nods toward the Reaper and the already-growing path of scattered corpses around him.

"Sure knows how to clear a room, huh?"

She ignores him, either not hearing him over her music or too focused on shooting things to slug him in the arm for his terrible pun. She pauses for the briefest instant, intense inspiration in her eyes, then spins, calling out to the Reaper.

Nomak's head turns sharply toward her, mad fury and primal hunger freezing his face into a terrifying display. She catches his eye, throws something thin and shiny toward him. He snatches it from the air, dodging a blow from another vampire, and swiftly rips out the creature's heart before examining the object.

It's an arrow, cold steel, with a green-and-silver-tipped head.

The virus.

He meets her gaze again, just long enough to see her nod in affirmation and mouth the word _Go_.

He turns away and continues carving a bloody path through the quickly-disbanding blockade, his scimitar jaws slicing through flesh like butter. By the time he reaches the top of the stairs, the vampires are trying to scramble around him, hoping to avoid the destructive whirlwind of his presence in favor of the humans. Ashes whirl about him like ghosts, his feet scuffing embers across the floor. Blade is already gone- working his way deeper into the building. From the floor above, Nomak hears the ringing clash of swords.

He hones in on the sounds of the duel, follows them to a marble-floored room overlooking the doors to a terrace. In the center is a massive steel table, cleaved in two by the fight, chunks of stone lying about and slashes in the walls and pillars.

Blade and Drake whirl around each other in a frenzied dance, sparks flying with every blow of their weapons. Crimson droplets scatter the air, running from half a dozen wounds that decorate the hybrid's arms, chest and face. Drake's shirt has been reduced to shreds, but no injuries mark his skin; testament to his healing abilities.

Before Nomak can make a move, Dracula drops to a crouch and swipes the Daywalker's feet aside. Blade falls, twisting to catch himself, but the elder vampire knocks him off-balance with a sharp kick, swipes his sword across his opponent's, knocking it away. Blade lands badly, his arm broken by the kick, and as he starts to leap back to his feet, Dagon impales his chest with the bone-handled sabre. The tip of the blade juts from his back, red running down to pool on the floor, Blade's face contorting in agony.

There is a flurry of movement, a wild force tearing across the room, and Drake roars as he is sent flying sideways by the Reaper. Blade cries out once as the sword pulls free, letting him collapse onto the stone. Nomak's hand whips with inhuman speed and strength, bringing the sharp gleam of the arrow toward Dracula's throat-

Drake's hand blocks him less than an inch away, snaps his arm and twists it until the arrow falls from his grip, clattering across the marble. The Reaper bellows in frustration and pain, wrenches away and snaps the bones back into alignment. His eyes dart to the wounded hunter, still bleeding on the ground.

_He only needs a moment_, Nomak thinks hastily, _He can heal himself if I give him enough time_. He darts away from Drake, drawing him out to the terrace.

Nomak has tried countless times before to fight Drake, and the ancient vampire's confident flash of a smile tells that he has already predicted the outcome of this battle. His eyes say_ I have defeated your precious Daywalker; how exactly do _you_ plan to succeed where he failed?_ He spins his sword in an easy arc, inscribing a figure eight through the air as he takes a step forward. But the Reaper has two unexpected assets in this duel: for the first time, he is at his full strength, fed and rested and unchained; and for all Drake's millennia of swordplay and practice, he's not used to facing an untrained opponent. Nomak's street-taught fighting style is swift, sudden, unpredictable, his hands a blur as he makes sharp lunges and jabs and dances away, keeping out of range of the blade. Dagon swipes and slashes, and in a split second when his arm is outstretched, the Reaper darts in and catches his wrist, twists with the force of a steel vice, imitating what was done to him moments ago and suddenly the sword is clanging onto the tiles. For the briefest moment they both stare at the weapon in disbelief. Nomak snaps into action first, kicking the katana away so hard that it goes spinning off the edge of the building and toward the ground hundreds of feet below.

Drake watches his sword fall, then whips around to face the smaller creature, draws himself up to his full height, letting his human skin erupt into his Devonian exoskeleton. His amber eyes swivel as he takes a step forward, unhinges his mandible, and roars his primeval fury at his opponent.

Nomak plants his feet, leans toward the monster, answers his cry with one of his own, an unnatural reverberating howl that builds and echoes, his jaw cracking like a bear trap, tongue snapping snakelike at Drake's hypnotic eyes. Inches apart, the two scream defiance at one another, pure animal rage reverberating off the walls. Dracula whips an arm forward, wicked claws aiming for his opponent's gut. Rather than sidestepping the blow, the Reaper catches his hand and yanks it forward. They tumble together, off-balance once more, Nomak's back hitting the wall, dragging Drake along with him by the talons buried in the smaller man's stomach. There's a frozen moment, their expressions a mixed mirror of shock and pain.

Keeping his deathlike grip on the limb embedded in his belly, Nomak snarls through gritted teeth, "_Do it_!"

Dagon meets his gaze for an instant, confused, not realizing that the command is aimed past him, toward the hunched figure on the floor behind them.

"_Now! Do it now!_"

Blade rises up from the floor in slow motion, blood shining down half his face like war paint. He brings up an arm, hand curled in a fist, swings it in an arc.

The barbed tip of the arrow punches through a crevice between two plates in Dracula's armor, the ampule shattering, driving its poison into his bloodstream. His eyes go wide, surprised, for a moment. The Daywalker takes a step back, prepared to continue, but the fight is already over.

The first vampire ever to walk the earth pulls slowly away, his hand tearing free of Nomak's stomach with a sick squelch. He staggers, turns halfway, his gaze slowly passing from one face to the other. He raises a hand to his throat, like he's choking, a tremor wracking his body.

"Well done," he says at length. "You fought bravely. Honorably. Both of you." He coughs. "Allow me at least... a parting gift. Hear my words." He collapses to his knees like a felled tree, bony plates rippling like snakeskin, giving way to tanned skin, going grey. "I was... not wrong about you, Daywalker. You and I... are not so different. With my death, you will... lose your purpose, and when you... have an eternity... with no purpose..." Another cough, bringing up a spray of blood and ash. He locks his eyes onto Blade's. "With no one to hunt, you will... turn on those around you. You will... cut down your allies... one by one..." He turns his heavy stare toward the Reaper, slumped against the wall and clutching his eviscerated gut. "In time, Daywalker, you will treat him... as I have. You will understand." His golden-brown eyes catch Nomak's, a strange conflict of nostalgia, anger, envy, longing and understanding in them as he addresses the pale being. "_Draga_ Nomak... I will wait for you in whatever world we are destined for. If there... is a Hell, it was made... for creatures like us. If there is a... next life, I will use it... to find you again. You can be sure... of that." His chest spasms, his jaw working painfully, and with a grimace he adds, "I leave this world... to you both. And I wish... you luck in it. But know... know that no matter what you do... in the end... the thirst always wins."

He smiles slowly, fluid trickling from his gums, and with a final cough expels a cloud of thick grey plague, chasing into the air, twisting like campfire smoke. Ancient, reptilian eyes glow with a last spark, then fade.

Blade stands a moment, watching as the body of his enemy crumples. He glances up at Nomak, and for a tense few seconds they wait. A beat passes, then another, and the hunters both release a breath. The half-blood's lips curl in a victorious, uneasy grin, and the Reaper returns it, shoulders lowering.

From the inside of the building comes the sound of screaming, shrieking, as the vampires gag and writhe in their dying agonies.

"It worked," Nomak says quietly.

The Daywalker nods, still grinning. Suddenly the smile falters, his brows furrowing.

He coughs.

"Blade?" Nomak steps forward, over Drake's corpse, and abruptly has to catch the half-breed as he falls, spitting up blood. "No! Blade, no-" Carefully, he lowers the hunter to the floor, supporting his head with one hand, feeling his erratic pulse with the other.

"Fuck-" Blade hacks, flecks of red scattering like freckles across Nomak's cheek.

"No, no, no!" Panic seizes the Reaper's mind, desperation clawing at him. There has to be something, some way, something he can do before it's too late, before the virus sweeps through them both-

-and he realizes that the virus isn't sweeping through them _both_.

And he remembers the doctors talking, back in the lab, about _immune system_ and about _unsusceptibility_ and about _blood-borne resistance_-

-and he tugs his sleeve down, hurried but strangely coolheaded as he takes one of Blade's knives and slits his wrist, blue-green spray like an ocean wave escaping. Before the wound can close he turns his arm, presses the open gash to the half-blood's mouth.

Blade tries to pull away, eyes rolling wildly, but Nomak keeps his grip firm. "Take it," he insists. "Drink, Blade."

He feels the hesitant scrape of fangs against his skin, and a second later the Daywalker latches on and sucks with all the frenzied, violent power of the dying. Nomak tries to will his blood to flow faster, to pump everything into the hunter. Blade's mouth is like a bottomless vacuum, like the hungry pressure of space, and soon the Reaper feels lightheaded, feels his heart shudder spasmodically at the loss. He closes his eyes for a moment, fighting a wave of euphoric nausea, and mumbles encouragement at the man in his arms.

His lungs contract- no air. Every motion is sluggish, like moving underwater.

Eyes lidded, heavy with exhaustion, he leans down and kisses the Daywalker's forehead, lips still moving, no longer making any sound.

_His heart pulses once._

Slow, his vision going dark.

_Twice_.

His head rests against the crook of Blade's neck, a soft exhalation slipping from him, almost a contented sigh.

_Full stop._

...

DAMN this took a while! Remember to review!


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